


It's Alright Ma, I'm Only Bleeding

by tameimpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Dean Has Abandonment Issues, Emotional Hurt, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Gen, Ghost Possession, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mother-Son Relationship, Post-Episode: s12e03 The Foundry, Season/Series 12, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-05-28 15:43:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tameimpala/pseuds/tameimpala
Summary: “Dean, we can’t expect her to have an instant connection to us. We don’t know each other yet, not really.”“Well leaving us is pretty much making sure that we never will.” Dean mumbled quietly, but Sam didn’t miss the resentment and disappointment lingering in his words and sighed in solidarity with his brother’s pain.Two weeks after Mary decided to leave the bunker, Dean finds a case close by in Oklahoma to distract both himself and Sam from another fresh abandonment. However, it turns out that Dean, mommy-issues, mental asylums, ghosts, and child deaths don't mix well.Set post s12e03 The Foundry





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Even though this story is a case fic it features Sam and _especially_ Dean's mommy-issues, with Mary herself appearing later on, it takes place in 2016 about a week after Mary left the bunker at the end of The Foundry but before American Nightmare, which didn't feature Sam and Dean in the bunker at all. Plus it's set in Tulsa, a place I have never been. If you live there or have been there I apologise if I've got anything wrong geography-wise. I know there's no mental hospital off in the woods there, I just decided it was a good place for one!
> 
> The title comes from the Bob Dylan song of the same name.

*

#  ________________

  


  


It wasn’t the best record player in the world, maybe not even the best one in Lebanon, but it was Dean’s. 

  


He only had a handful of vinyls for the second-hand machine and each one skipped and crackled on occasion, but Dean liked it. The skipping kept him on his toes, brought him crashing down to earth when he attempted to sing along to a song. Suddenly the words he expected to follow were lurched out from under him as the needle found a new groove to settle in- a new part of the song… and just like that Dean was left behind. _Aint that a bitch_ , he’d think. Then again it wasn’t really. He enjoyed that little quirk, the machine was just a bit too eager for its own good. And there was nothing wrong with that.

Side A was over and the record had ground to a halt. With a surprisingly gentle hand Dean lifted the lever, flipped it over to the B-side and then set the needle plummeting back down again. It wasn’t long until Robert Plant was crooning through the brittle crackle of the record player’s dented speakers once more as Dean returned to his laptop. It was a strange cocktail of old and new technology, but his life had always been that way…

  


_Made up my mind to break you this time,_  
_Won't be so fine, it's my turn to cry._  
_Do what you want, I won't take the brunt._  
_It's fading away, can't feel you anymore._

 _It's fading away, can't feel you anymore. **[--]** It's fading away, can't feel you anymore._

_It's fading away- **[CRUNCH]** It's fading away- **[CRR--]** Fading away- **[CR-]** Fading away- **[CRU--]** Fading away-_

  


The hunter glared at the skipping disc as it repeated itself and wondered whether or not to correct it. He sighed and eventually lent over and struggled to lift the needle, it was nearly out of his grasp but he refused to get up again. Instead he did some strange balancing stretch on his seat to reach over and silence the machine- it must be getting late anyway, he should probably call it a night soon. When he was finally upright once more his right arm ached from that exertion and Dean realised that pretty soon he would no longer be on the good side of forty but straddling the bad side. It didn’t bother him too much though, he never really thought he’d live this long. However, he wouldn’t exactly say any new ache in his well-worn bones was a blessing.

Trying to rid himself of these thoughts and the dull twinge of his joints, he returned to his laptop. Dean carried on reading a news article from two days ago and suddenly found himself getting twitchy. 

_You do his job for so long you start to get a sixth sense boy,_ his Dad’s voice floated into his ear and Dean agreed with him. The voice was more prominent of late, as if his mother’s return had kicked it loose… Nevertheless he didn’t dwell on that strange theory, he knew this was a case- it had all the hallmarks, hell it was practically gift-wrapped. So he cleared his throat and yelled.

“SAMMY?” Dean’s voice called out into the silence. He hoped Sam wasn’t listening to his iPod with his headphones in because that would mean Dean would have to get up for the third time.

“WHAT IS IT?” Sam shouted from down the hall a few moments later. Dean found himself wishing for a motel with twin beds, one with a bored brother sat waiting, itching, for a new hunt. Perhaps he felt nostalgic for the convenience, perhaps for the freedom. 

They had grown roots here in the bunker, and that was a good thing. But his father’s voice was in his ear again, _roots are for trees Dean- we need wheels._

So Dean yelled back, “FOUND A CASE!” 

The hunter waited for a beat until he heard the sound of a book hitting the floor and large but steady footsteps making their way to his room. Sam’s tall form appeared in the doorway and peered at him sleepily. Dean hadn’t really checked the time, he guessed his brother had been slowly getting ready for bed judging by his dishevelled look. The older man smirked a little and spun around in his chair.

“Look at this.” Dean lifted the laptop and passed it to Sam, who took it begrudgingly and sat on the edge of the bed:

 

  


### 

**4TH CHILD FOUND DEAD IN TUSLA- PARENTS URGED TO KEEP CALM**

**A fourth child has been found dead in their own home in Tulsa, Oklahoma. The body of 7-year-old Toby Wright was discovered in his bed yesterday morning by his mother Joanne. There were no signs of a break-in and the family’s alarm system was active all night, leaving police baffled once again. Toby’s death is identical to 10-year-old Kirsty Nightingale, 4-year-old Suhail Kagti, and 12-year-old Noah Reed. Despite the first death happening 8 months ago, coroners have not yet been able to confirm the cause of these sequential deaths. Some parents in the area have taken their children out of school amid fears of an illness circulating the district, whilst a smaller majority believe that the children were murdered, due to sightings linked to wooded areas in Harlow Creek where children are known to roam. Local resident Tally Sanders, 48, told us, _“Kids play around here, in the trees and up by old Anhanger House trying to creep each other out. If you ask me someone came for those children.”_.**

**Anhanger House, situated in Harlow Creek, was a state-run institution for patients with psychical or developmental disabilities home to over 800 patients, the majority of which were under the age of 18. The hospital was shut-down in 1995 due to lack of funding, allegations of abuse, and poor living conditions. 21 years later the building has become somewhat of an urban legend and a spot for local children and teenagers to congregate. However after the death of Abbie Foster 3 years ago, who fell from a second story window in the abandoned hospital, wire fences have since been put up around the building to prevent trespassing. Both Noah Reed and Kirsty Nightingale were known to have played near the building days before their deaths, according to witnesses.**

**Authorities have warned other residents to stay away from the area and reassured parents that the causes of death will become evident, but there are no current signs of a contagious illness or any evidence of foul play.**

### 

 

  


Dean watched Sam’s eyes dart to and fro across the bright laptop screen. When the younger man had finished reading the article he passed it back to his brother.

“Well?” Asked Dean.

“Sounds like our kinda thing.” Sam replied, combing his hands through his hair, “Shtriga maybe?”

“Maybe… But the kids are already dead, not in a coma.” 

“Huh, true. Spirit then?”

“Bingo, I’m thinking spirit of one of the kids lived in that asylum.” Said Dean as he shut his laptop with a bang and stood up.

“You mean hospital?” Sam corrected smartly.

“No I mean asylum Sammy, you read the article. Didn’t sound like any hospital to me, you can check outta those. Allegations of abuse? Bad living conditions... Sounds like a mental asylum, they probably locked those poor kids up and threw away the key.”

Sam looked at Dean intently. Of course Sam himself hated anything that was harming children but Dean… These kinds of cases really got stuck under his brother’s skin, and they had a tendency to make him a little reckless.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” Questioned Dean, who was already packing up his bag. Sam could tell he was itching for the road, probably because that’s where their mother was too. 

“Nothing.” He mumbled, standing up too and heading for the door. They didn’t even have to say anything, both brothers knew the drill. Be packed, ready, and in the Impala in 5 minutes. They would drive away from the bunker with Dean in the driver’s seat whilst Sam caught up on the sleep he was currently missing.

  


As Sam walked out of his older brother’s room he caught a glimpse of the photograph that Dean had propped up against his lamp. It was the one of him and his mother in front of their old house, the house Mom had died inside. She’d been a stranger, a mystery, to Sam and an angelic deity to both Dean and their father. Now upon her resurrection she was still a stranger to Sam, but he had lived his entire life feeling that way, so at last he felt like he could build a relationship on that as he had no foundations in the first place. But to Dean, who had lived his entire life with pure grief-clouded memories of perfection, she had twisted into a stranger who in turn looked at him like one. His once pristine image of her was cracking now it had been faced with brutal reality.

Sam was not the baby his mother remembered and Dean was not her 4-year-old boy- that must have been quite a shock, to put it mildly. Both Sam and Dean had been resurrected themselves (plenty of times, in fact too many to mention) and they knew the confusion and fear it caused. The problem was Sam didn’t know how to explain all this without upsetting her further. And now with her leaving the bunker, he hadn’t even had the chance to.

He understood the need to hunt, to aim all your frustrations at the next monster-shaped target. Sam also knew the difference between needing the hunt and getting lost in it, especially when you’re trying to escape something. He’d seen it played out again and again, mainly by his own brother. Now that he’d finally truly met his mother, he realised that Dean and Mary weren’t just similar in looks.

However, there was someone else he wasn’t bargaining Mom being like, and that was John Winchester.

She’d left them as soon as she’d found them and although Sam understood that she needed space, he would be a liar if he said he wasn’t saddened by it. Mary’s return had shocked them all to their very core. It was unrealistic to imagine that they’d all adjust immediately and pick up from where they left off over 30 years later, yet he knew reality wasn’t their family’s strong suit. 

Whatever his Mom had thought she was doing by leaving the bunker, Sam only knew that in Dean eyes he’d simply watched another parent _choose_ to walk away from them.

  


Sam still stood in the doorway looking at the photo when something soft and padded hit the side of his head. He looked down to see a balled-up sock by his feet and turned towards his brother.

“You going to stand there all night or get moving?” Asked the older man.

“I am, just-” Sam didn’t know how to approach this subject, maybe he could wait until they were in the car as he usually did… It was partly tactics (or cowardice- based on how you’d perceive it) to ask Dean uncomfortable questions whilst he was stuck in the car on a highway with no escape, but Sam normally did it anyway as it was the easiest way to get things out of his brother. Yet he decided to talk now, because he was planning to get some rest in the car.

“-just do you think maybe we should ask Mom if she wants in on this hunt?” He tried to make the words come out as casually as he could and hoped that he succeeded.

Dean stared at him blankly for a second, then turned to pull a couple of his guns down from the wall above his bed. “We can manage. Seems a pretty cut and dry case, just need to find the spirit.” Came Dean’s reply.

Sam laughed, “Whenever you say that the case ends up being anything but cut and dry. Even if you are right, we’ll still need to look through the records of this Anhanger House and find the cause of all this… That’s going to involve some serious research. We could use the manpower.”

The older hunter dropped three guns into his duffel bag and sighed. Sam could tell he was biting back a retort of she wanted go and she’s gone _(and where had he heard that before?)_ but to Sam’s surprise Dean reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone.

  


“I’ll text her, it’s up to her if she replies.” He said as he typed out a message that Sam couldn’t see.

“You sure she knows how to reply?” Asked Sam, not convinced their Mom was quite used to the 21st century’s many wonders.

“She knows.” Replied Dean with a small smile. 

Sam let out a small breath of relief and backed out of the room, “Good, guess I’ll get packing.”

“We’ll be on the road in 5.” Drifted Dean’s voice from behind him. 

  


He hadn’t needed to say it, but he said it anyway.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Dean listens to is _Your Time Is Gonna Come_ by Led Zeppelin. Also Anhanger (or anhänger) is a German word that can mean trailer, pendent, or supporter- but it sounds ominous!


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

#  ________________

  


  


The Winchesters pulled into Tulsa with a deafening squeal five and a half hours later. The Impala had been making worrying noises every time Dean applied the brakes, jolting Sam awake each time he’d gotten comfy- which was not an easy job in this car but he’d had a lot of practice over the years. He’d finally given up on any sort of rest when Dean took a sharp left turn into a motel parking lot and practically jumped out of the car into the mild light of dawn.

  


Sam rubbed his eyes groggily then stepped out to find the hunter kneeling down by the front tire.

“What’s up?” He asked his older brother, nudging the wheel lightly with his booted foot.

“Don’t do that,” Chastised Dean, wiping at the non-existent mark Sam had left behind, “She’s been making noises the whole way down, don’t know if you noticed.”

“Oh I noticed alright.... I suppose it is getting on in years.” Sam mused as he made his way to the trunk to collect their bags.

“Hey, Baby’s still going strong.” Called Dean from the ground and Sam laughed heartily.

“Your baby is an old broad, nearly 50 years old now.” Sam whistled at the thought. Maybe next year they should get a cake for the only consistent home they’d ever known. It had been on this planet going on five decades, in three short years it will have outlived their own father. He rested a hand lovingly on the side of the trunk and let that sink in for a second. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Sam certainly wasn’t going to let Dean know that fun piece of trivia, after all he was sure that his brother could do the math himself. 

The car would probably outlive them all.

“She’s a mature woman. Pad’s have gotten a little worn that’s all.” Replied Dean as he stood up and dusted himself off.

Sam scoffed, “Nice. I hope you mean brake pads?”

“I do. Good to know some things aren’t lost on you Sammy.” Dean was suddenly at his shoulder hauling his own bags out of the trunk. “I’ll go get a room.”

“For us or for you and the car?” Smirked Sam. He earned a light shove for that as Dean walked towards the reception with a barely audible mutter of ‘bitch’.

  


  


* * * * * * * * 

  


  


“Sammy come on, caffeinate.” There was a ruff shake to his shoulder that broke Sam out of his slumber. He’d only gotten two hours sleep tops and had pretty much collapsed onto one of the queen beds as soon as they’d stepped through the doors of room number 6. 

  


Sam blinked up at the hovering figure above him and blindly reached out for the coffee which was filling the small room with its bitter aroma. 

“Triple red eye?” Asked Sam when he grasped the Styrofoam cup.

“Nah you don’t need that, you got plenty of sleep.” Dean said as he walked over to a small table where his laptop was lying open.

The younger man sat up and sniffed the cup gingerly. He took a tentative sip and sighed, “Just a cappuccino then. Dean I’ve had like two hours tops.”

“On the Winchester scale that’s an eight, count yourself lucky.” Dean retorted in a soft voice. He picked up his own cup and drained the contents greedily. Sam tilted his head a little to reveal three other empty white Styrofoam cups hidden behind his brother’s laptop.

“Did you get any sleep?” Enquired Sam, even though already knew the answer, maybe that’s why Dean didn’t reply and carried on staring intently at his computer screen.

“You know zero hours sleep on the Winchester scale is still zero, no amount of coffee is going to replace that.” Continued Sam even though he knew Dean just filtered out his lectures like a stubborn teenager. Sleep deprovision was one subject Sam Winchester was unfortunately well versed on, but Dean seemed to function on a different level to any other human. He was pretty sure his brother was a low-level insomniac, one that tended to get worse in times of stress or disaster. Unfortunately those were the two states their lives seemed to be in around 99% percent of the time.

“I thought we could go up to Anhanger House, or what’s left of it.” Said Dean, completely ignoring Sam’s last remark, “Maybe comb the place for EMF, cold spots, usual stuff. What do you think?” 

“What about the morgue first? Try and find any clues to what the victims died from?” Sam moved to grab his jacket from the end of his bed, he hadn’t even changed his clothes to sleep due to him hitting the bed as soon as he’d entered the room.

“I’m not really in the corpse viewing mood today, I wanna see if that place sets off any red flags first.” Replied Dean, closing his laptop shut to punctuate the sentence. 

“Fair enough.” Murmured Sam. He watched Dean carefully as his older brother tossed his coffee cup into the wire trash can. He didn’t watch it go in, even though it sailed in effortlessly, instead he turned away to pick up his bag. Sam knew this was the signal to leave and followed suit. 

  


“You okay?” Asked Dean unexpectedly as they both reached the door.

Sam blinked, his hand stopped short of the door handle and froze there, “I- Erm yeah I’m okay Dean, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just thought, what with Mom and all… I don’t know, you’re just weirdly going along with everything. With everyone.”

The younger man let his brother’s words wash over him for a second, then finally the world caught up with him again. Sam pushed the door open and strode ahead of his brother, letting out a brief chuckle.

“You know,” Started Sam as he swung open the passenger door of the Impala, “There was a time when all you would do was beg me to go along with whatever Dad asked me to do.”

“Yeah I remember that funnily enough,” Dean folded himself into the car with practised grace and muttered under his breath, “Some treasured memories there.”

“Then what’s your point?” Sam asked, a puzzled expression spread across his face, “Aren’t you happy I’ve outgrown that all that teenage angst?” 

“Well yeah, but that’s not- That’s not who you are Sam. You question everything all the time, you’re the one who rakes things up and picks them over and over ‘till there’s nothing left. I think half the time you argued with Dad because in some way… you enjoyed it- having someone to battle against.” Explained Dean whilst he kept his head low and fiddled with the key in the ignition. “But with Mom it’s like… I don’t know- you won’t say _anything_ , either way, and you always have something to say Sammy. It’s creeping me out.”

“It’s different with Mom Dean,” He took a deep breath, not wanting his brother to take the next thing he was about to say the wrong way. 

“I don’t... We don’t know her.” Said Sam softly and watched a look of defiance creep up Dean’s face.

“Of course we know her.” Dean turned to him with thunder in his eyes, “She’s our mother.”

“Yeah she is, but that doesn’t mean we can control her or tell her what’s best for her.” The younger man put his hands up placatingly and tried again to clarify how he felt, “Dean, we can’t expect her to have an instant connection to us. We don’t know each other yet, not really.”

“Well leaving us is pretty much making sure that we never will.” Dean mumbled quietly, but Sam didn’t miss the resentment and disappointment lingering in his words and sighed in solidarity with his brother’s pain. 

“We’ve lasted over 30 years without her,” Began Sam in a tentative voice, “I’m not being harsh here it’s just… I wanted this to be different too believe me, I’ve imagined this a thousand times over… filling in that one blank.” 

It was no exaggeration, one thing he’d wished for more than anything as a child was for their mother back so that they could be that normal family Sam had seen in his father’s battered-up photographs he kept hidden from view.

Dean hung his head a little, he felt exactly the same. Through trial and error they had found that things just don’t turn out like you had hoped they would when you were a child, and if anything, it was irresponsible to hold onto those beliefs.

“But she’s a person too, someone who’s been unfairly yanked back to life.” Continued Sam, he needed Dean to understand this.

Through no fault of his brother’s own, Mary had somehow ceased to be a person to him. It’s always a shock when you discover your parents are floored human beings and not the all-powerful towers of strength and protection you once thought they were. You’re supposed to discover that in your teens, but it was a little bit harder when one of your parents died when you where young, they stay in that cocooned state of child-like reverence forever. But now that bubble had finally burst.

  


Sam looked at his brother, who was flicking the car keys once again, but he knew he was still listening so Sam carried on.

“I’m sure she’ll some back to us once she’s got her head straight, she’s a Winchester after all.”

Dean took a breath and griped the steering wheel tightly. A second later he let go and all of the fight left him too.

“I know, I guess… I guess this whole thing’s really knocked us on our asses right?” Laughed Dean tiredly.

Sam joined in too, glad that his older brother had met him in the middle.

“You mean our long dead mother being brought back to life by God’s sister? It’s just another year isn’t it?” Sam joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Ha laugh it up smartass, let’s case this joint.” And suddenly Dean turned the key and revved the engine like they had only just got into the car. He reversed the Impala with the turn of his head and the flick of the wheel, all his magic and sparkle back as he steered his baby out of the motel parking lot. “An abandoned asylum, now that’s something I can get behind. Seasons may change but the hunts stay the same am I right?”

“You’re half right.” Sam gripped the dashboard suddenly when Dean took a corner too quick and the car passing them rewarded him with the loud beep of their horn, which Dean only made Dean smirk. “Just get us there and back in one piece.”

  


“Have I ever let you down Sammy?” Laughed Dean.

  


Sam turned away with a soft smile he hid from his brother. _Not when it matters_ , he thought to himself as they drove towards Harlow Creek in the crisp October air.

  



	3. Chapter 3

* * * *

#  ________________

  


  


The dense forest in Anhanger House’s surrounding area made it hard for them to park close to the building. The one abandoned road into its location was full of cracks and huge potholes that made Dean swear under his breath when the car’s wheels seemingly hit every single one it could find. Pig-headed as ever, Dean still decided to drive as far in as possible and didn’t give in until they hit a particularly bad pothole and found themselves staring at an uprooted tree obstructing the deteriorated road. 

  


“I guess it’s all on-foot from here.” Sighed Sam, still staring at the blackened tree blocking their way.

“I think I can see a building just past those trees up there.” Dean pointed towards a small spot in the near distance, Sam pulled his gaze away from the fallen tree and up towards the small sliver of a roof silhouetted against the grey sky. His brother suddenly punched his arm playfully, “That turned out alright didn’t it? Come on Sammy let’s get our ghost on.”

Dean jumped out of the Impala and Sam couldn’t help but smirk at Dean’s new lively mood. A moment later he also opened the door and was hit by a cold breeze. He shuddered, wishing that he had worn something warmer than his thin canvas jacket, and walked over to the tree blocking the road. Sam’s first assumption had been wrong, it hadn’t been uprooted, the trunk of the tree was broken as if it had snapped. The hunter moved to the side of the road to see if there was a corresponding stump but all he could see were smaller intact trees which didn’t look anything like the one in the road.

“What’s up?” Called Dean as he walked over to Sam and handed him a sawed-off shotgun.

“It’s just weird.” Sam said, more to himself than to his brother, “This tree, it’s obviously rotted and cracked at the trunk but there’s no stump. And look around, the trees in this area look nothing like this one- not the same color or size or anything. So where the hell did it come from?”

“Guess this has really got you stumped then?” Dean grinned, obviously proud of himself.

“Shut up,” Sam muttered fondly as he moved forward into the trees, his brother shadowed him and they slowly made their way through the wood towards Anhanger House. 

  


It didn’t take that long for the trees to thin out and for the abandoned building to come into view. The huge imposing state-run institution loomed over them, casting a dark shadow over everything around it. It was definitely in a bad state of disrepair, every window was smashed and ivy had started to consume the walls. The building’s burnt orange bricks looked chipped and weathered, as did the bare roof which was missing a few hundred tiles. A tall wire fence surrounded the house and its grounds, which had obviously been put up recently to stop trespassers. 

Sam lightly hit the fence with his hand. He looked up and judged it too high to jump over, best to go under it.

“You got wire cutters?” He asked Dean.

“Don’t need ‘em.” Came the other hunter’s voice from the right of him and Sam whipped his head around to see Dean perched in front of a tear in the fence.

“Huh. Not exactly an effective fence is it?” Said Sam, moving to hold the torn wire up so that Dean could crawl through.

“Well if people want in, people want in. Walls never stop anybody Sammy, they just make the places surrounded by them more tempting.” Dean said as he pulled himself and his duffel bag to the other side. Sam let go of the wire so that Dean could hold it open for him too.

“Yeah, I guess it’s like putting _‘Break in!’_ above the building in neon lights. ” Agreed Sam, places with large walls and fences tended to have a lot of things to hide. 

Sam’s tall frame only just made it through the tear in the wire fence, although unfortunately he didn’t make through unscathed- he realised when he stood up that he’d ripped his jacket sleeve on the exposed wire and scratched the skin beneath it. The hunter shook it off and headed towards the large wooden entrance doors.

“Sam wait.” Dean’s hand went out in front of the younger man, bringing him to a stop.

“What?” Asked Sam, looking around for any clue to what Dean had halted them for.

“The trees lining the place.” He gestured to the right and to the left of the entrance, “Three that side but only…”

“-Two the other side.” Finished Sam as he noticed the third missing tree to the right. They both moved towards the site where it should have been and found a large splintered stump but no sign of the rest of the tree.

“Must be where the tree in the road came from do you think?” Suggested Dean.

“It does look the same.” Sam nodded, he peered up at the windows of the building looking for an answer but found none. “How the hell did it end up in the road, far away from the house?... Unless someone, or something, threw it there.”

“Okay so we’re looking for something that break a tree and launch it _waaayyyy_ outta the park. Any guesses? Besides The Incredible Hulk?” Joked Dean whilst kicking the tree stump absentmindedly.

“Something with a hell of a lot of juice.” Sam replied. He glanced back at the main doors and noticed that they had been chained up and padlocked, their easiest way in would be to simply climb through the one of the paneless windows of the ground floor. He made his way over the closest window and knelt down, Dean followed wordlessly and climbed into the building with a helpful boost from Sam. When he was in, he held out a hand for Sam to grab onto and hauled him inside in return.

“Phew,” Gasped Dean, getting his breath back and looking around, “Nice and welcoming in here isn’t it?”

They had entered into what had clearly been a bedroom. There were four rusting metal frame beds in each corner of the small room. It was empty of any other furniture yet it’s walls had been heavily graffitied, this was obviously a popular entrance into the building.

“You getting any readings yet?” Asked Sam as he inspected the walls, when you looked past all the obviously recent graffiti he could see small scratches on the exposed brick, most likely made by human hands. He guessed that the bricks had been painted white or something when the place was running as a mental hospital but now they had faded, they now made the room look like more like a prison-cell. Although, due to the amount of beds in the small space, it had probably been worse than a prison-cell.

“Slow your roll Sammy, we just got into the place.” Said Dean, searching in the duffel bag and grabbing the small make-shift instrument.

“Yeah well I’m not getting any good vibes so far.” Voiced Sam as he walked through the doorway and into the hall.

“The EMF meter doesn’t have a setting for that.” 

Sam snorted and walked through the doorway, which was missing a door, and into a surprisingly light hall. From behind him he heard the whining of the EMF radar and the tell-tale sounds of the needle fluctuating.

“Yeah definitely no good vibes here at all. This thing keeps peaking and dropping, nothing too strong at the moment though.” Noted Dean, joining Sam in the hall.

“There’s always time.” Deadpanned the younger man. There was something unsettling about this place, a sense of emptiness and sorrow lay heavy in the air. The two hunters moved across the dusty debris-covered floor towards the main entrance, walking past seven other rooms on the way, five of which were also over-crowded bedrooms and the other two seemed to be small offices.

“Hey Sam, come look at this.” Said Dean as he approached the door, “Someone’s been mailing letters here.”

Dean bent down to pick up a handful of unopened envelopes from the pile that lay on the floor and held them up for Sam to see.

“Steven.” He read the name written in neat cursive aloud and Dean nodded as he leafed through the other letters.

“They’re all for him. No postage stamp or anything, whoever sent them slid them under the door by hand.” Dean considered the yellowing papers for a moment before ripping open an envelope to reveal a dated-looking birthday card and read its contents to Sam; _“To Steven, happy birthday angel. Love forever, Mom.”_

“You think we should take them with us, see if we can find out who Steven was?” Suggested Sam.

“Yeah and who his mother is.” Dean began to move the envelopes into his duffel bag, but he was soon distracted by a loud noise.

They both froze and stared at each other.

“That sound like it came from upstairs to you?” The older hunter asked in a hushed tone. 

Sam nodded and cocked his gun. Dean was up on his feet in seconds, gun also in hand. They stealthily headed towards the end of the corridor and up the dilapidated staircase. The sound of children’s laughter and the banging noise echoed eerily down the stairs as the hunters reached the first floor. They stalked down the hallway to a far room that grew louder as they approached. Dean leaned against the wall before the doorway to the room and mouthed _‘3…2…1’_ to Sam before moving into the room, gun raised.

  


Four loud-pitched terror filled screams greeted him and Sam rushed to his side. 

The room wasn’t full of ghostly apparitions but four very real children.

Dean sighed in relief and raised his hand as he set his gun down. 

“It’s okay, we’re Forrest Rangers.” He lied easily to the wide-eyed children who stood huddled together. Dean spotted a ball clutched in the tallest boy’s hand, “You picked a hell of a place to play catch.”

“We’re sorry!” Sniffed the only girl of the group, who looked close to tears, “Please don’t arrest us!”

“I’m not going to… Look you kids shouldn’t be in here, it’s dangerous.”

“Then what are _you_ doing in here?” Asked the tall kid. His face was smattered in freckles and he had an air about him that screamed leader, reminding Sam of Dean at that age.

“Our jobs.” Replied the older hunter with a smirk which soon faded. The kids seemed be around the same ages of the victims. He lowered his voice and asked them softly, “You guys wouldn’t happen to know any of those kids that died recently wouldya?”

They were all quiet for a moment before the girl spoke, “Kirsty was in my class, she used to come up here with us.”

“Did anything happen to her while she was here?” Interjected Sam and the kids fell silent again.

“Guys?” Dean prompted kindly.

“You won’t believe us.” Said the tall child as he squeezed the ball he was holding.

“Try us.” Smiled Sam and the group all looked at their feet in avoidance before one of them broke the silence.

“It was Steven.” Piped up the girl, earning an elbow from the boy standing next to her in an attempt shut her up, but she continued, “He got mad.”

“Steven?” The same person those letters were sent to. Sam shared a look with his brother before carrying on, “I’m guessing that’s none of your names?”

They all shook their heads.

“What did he do?”

“Kirsty had to go home early but he wanted her to stay.” The girl said as she kicked at the rubble beneath her shoes, “He… he came up to her and she…”

“She fainted.” The tall boy finished for her, “We had to carry her out.”

“And you still came back here?” Dean asked in disbelief, “Even after what happened to Kirsty and those three other kids?”

“Well, yeah. We come to see Steven.” 

Dean tried to act like that wasn’t a totally creepy thing to say and studied the small group of children. They all looked reasonably scared, but he got the feeling it was only due to fear of the fake authority of himself and Sam.

“Do you see him right now?” Pressed Dean, wondering if this Steven spirit could only appear to kids.

“Only sometimes,” Answered the boy, “But always he plays catch with us.”

“Show them Matty.” The girl said, turning towards the leader.

“Yeah show them!” Agreed a smaller bespectacled boy. However, the remaining child didn’t join in, he only stood sullenly to the side of the group.

“Okay then.” Matty gave in and a small grin quickly appeared on his face. It was obvious that they enjoyed playing here, it probably felt like an exciting secret hideout to them.

Matty moved to the middle of the room and threw the ball in a downwards arch to bounce it off the floor. But instead of bouncing again the ball stopped mid air for a second before changing direction and bouncing back to Matty as though someone invisible had caught it and thrown it back to him.

The boy spun around proudly as though he’d just preformed a brilliant magic trick and looked expectantly at Sam and Dean, who both stood glaring at the space where the ball had been returned from.

“We need to get you kids out of here.” Breathed Dean as he walked over to the group to herd them up, “Come on, lets go.”

“What? We can’t leave- it’s not time yet!” Cried the girl as Dean attempted to usher them away.

“What do you mean?” Inquired Sam, wondering why there was a time limit on their stay here.

“We can’t go ‘till 5, that’s when Steven disappears!”

“Well I think you’ve had enough of playing with Casper for one day.” Replied Dean.

“Er, guys?” Matty interrupted and looked over his shoulder. “What’s wrong with Aaron?”

  


Everyone paused and turned around, following Matty’s line of sight. The boy who’d stood almost separate to the others, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world, was stood frozen in the same exact place where the group had been standing before Dean had pushed them towards the door.

“Aaron?” Asked Dean tentatively as he made his way over to the boy, “Can you hear me? We need to leave.”

The child couldn’t move but his eyes darted towards Dean in terror. They all watched on as a flickering figure began to appear behind Aaron, it’s hands digging into the boy’s shoulders.

 _“Not time yet.”_ Came a croaky voice as the figure took human form, _“I go too.”_

The ghostly visage of Steven looked dirty and malnourished with matted hair and dark flittering eyes. They only got a glimpse of the spirit before Aaron screamed and went sharply rigid, like he’d been electrocuted, as Steven appeared to merge into him. 

The boy began to fall to the floor to a chorus of his friends yelling his name, Dean ran towards him and dove to catch the child before he could hit the ground.

“Sam! Duffel now!” He yelled as he adjusted Aaron in his arms and checked his breathing.

Both Sam, clutching both their shotguns and the bag, and the other children ran to Dean and Aaron.

“We need to get him home, Kirsty woke up when we left.” Said Matty with confidence and turned to the girl who was beginning to cry, “It’s okay Flo, he’ll be fine.”

“You shouldn’t have taken Kirsty out of here.” Dean rummaged through his duffel and brought out a canister of salt, “She was possessed.”

“What?” Matty looked at Dean sceptically, “What do you…”

“I’d stand back if I were you guys.” Interrupted Dean as he shook a pile of salt into his hand.

“Come on- let’s move over here.” Sam shepherded the three children away from Dean and Aaron, taking his shotgun with him to protect them. They stood over by the doorway, ready to run if needs be.

“Sorry Aaron.” Murmured Dean as he pressed the salt against the boy’s mouth. 

Almost instantaneously his eyes flew open and the ghost catapulted itself out of Aaron with such a force that Dean was sent flying backwards.

 _“Dean!”_ Sam yelled as his brother hit the wall behind him with a loud bang, his head slamming heavily against the exposed brick. 

Aaron came back to life, coughing and spluttering. His friends all ran towards him and helped him up as Sam ran over to Dean, who thankfully was stirring.

“Hey! You okay?” He asked whilst he felt around Dean’s head for blood, his hand came back with a smudge of blood but nothing serious- probably just from a small cut.

“Y-yeah, I’ll live.” Murmured a disoriented Dean, “Let’s get out of here before Steven shows his face again.”

Sam helped his brother to his feet and they both made their way over to the children, who were stood in a circle around Aaron attempting to help ease his coughing.

“Look in the bag, there’s a bottle of water in there.” Sam told them, Flo bent down to search through the bag, before too long she brought out the bottle and looked at it with narrowed eyes.

“Why’s it have a necklace in it?” She asked, referring to the rosary inside.

“You don’t wanna know.” Replied Sam with a weary smile as Matty took it from her, unscrewed the lid, and handed it to Aaron. The boy took the bottle of holy water and practically downed the entire thing.

  


Sam heard Dean laughing beside him. “Good call Sam, at least he’ll be free of demons too. Two-for-one deal he’s getting here. We really should charge.”

  



	4. Chapter 4

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#  ________________

  


  


The hunters arrived back at the motel after dropping the children off in their own neighbourhood with a warning not to return to the house in the woods. They all looked a little rattled, especially Aaron due to his brief ghost possession, but the kids at least appeared to be happy as they walked away from the car. After watching them safely leave in their close-knit group, with Matty passing the ball to each one of them playfully as they ran to the sidewalk, Dean sped off before anyone could slap an amber alert on them.

  


“Man, those kids were lucky we were there.” Sighed the older hunter when they arrived back in their room. He sunk into his bed as Sam closed the door behind him and set their bags down onto the motel floor.

“Quick thinking with that salt.” The younger man remarked.

“Handful of salt a day keeps the ghosts away.” Dean winked at his brother before looking away- allowing thoughts of the ghost possessions at their former-school, Truman High, to fill his mind. 

"I did steal that move from you though." He said as he sat up to lean against the headboard, but Dean soon regretted the move when the back of his head touched the wall.

“Dean? You okay?” Asked Sam, his brow furrowing in concern as Dean hissed air through his teeth .

“I’m fine Sam.” His brother readjusted his position and lent forward, keeping his head away from the wall this time, “Just got a lump where that ghost flung me, I’m not seeing double or anything.”

“Hmm, alright. I wanna take a look at it later though.”

“Okay creep.” Deflected Dean and shivered a little, “A little chilly in here don’t you think?”

Sam nodded in agreement, he’d just been thinking the same. He walked over to the window and eyed the salt-line along the ledge. He felt a breeze moving his hair slightly and raised his eyes to see a chunk of glass from the corner of the top window pane missing.

“Crack in the window.” Sam said as he turned back towards Dean.

“God, the place is hardly the Ritz is it? It's gonna be hard to keep a salt line down if the wind comes through.” The older hunter remarked before gesturing to the floor, “Toss me that duffel, I want to take a look at those letters again.”

Sam figured his brother didn’t seem to be suffering from a concussion so he relented. The younger man took their laptop out from the other bag before placing the heavy duffel bag down on Dean’s bed. Sam opened the computer up and sat down on the other queen bed, “Guess I’m looking for records of residents who lived at Anhanger then?”

“You guessed right genius.” Smirked Dean as he began to carefully open all the envelopes they’d taken from the building with a hunting knife. However, when he revealed the cards inside his smile soon disappeared.

“God this is real sad.” He said forlornly as he pulled Christmas and Birthday cards out of the envelopes along with a few handwritten letters, all from Steven’s mother.

“His mom must miss him.” Sam said as he glanced at the pile of dated cards and paper growing on Dean’s lap.

“Makes me wonder why she left him in that institution then.” Dean’s eyes scanned over a Christmas card he’d just opened before he moved onto a small letter, “If she loved him so much I mean?”

“Maybe she didn’t have a choice?” Suggested Sam, “Maybe she couldn’t cope.”

“Hm.” Dean acknowledged quietly as he read the letter, “Hey she mentions Oklahoma City in this… Check to see if there’s anyone there related to Steven.”

“Hold on a minute, I haven’t even found Steven’s info yet.” Sam said from over the top of the laptop screen.

Dean muttered something under his breath and laughed before putting the cards, letters, and opened envelopes to one side with great care. Somehow he felt like he had to show the aged cards some respect, even if reading them made him feel like there was a rock lodged in his throat. 

  


His mind had drifted back to that night in November, when his mother had burnt… He wondered morbidly that if circumstances had been different, if it had been himself or Sammy that had died instead of her, would she have written to them on their birthdays and sent them apologetic agony-filled letters too? Dean even began to think of his father, who’d never bought either of them a birthday card. However, the man had wrote Dean plenty of notes, all of which were almost exclusively orders. If god forbid the CPS had ever took himself and Sam away (Dean could think of numerous occasions where they almost had) and sent them to a children’s home, would John have written to them then?

He lost himself to the different paths his life could have taken whilst he listened to Sam’s irregular but gentle tapping of the laptop’s keys. Just as his eyelids began to droop he was shook awake by the chords of a guitar.

“Dean, your phone.” Notified Sam, keeping his narrowed eyes on the computer screen.

The hunter began to pat himself down, searching for his cell phone, before finding it in the top pocket of his jacket. He flipped it right-side up and peered at the screen.

The word ‘ **Mom** ’ looked back at him.

“Well?” Sam asked whilst Dean looked at the phone, “You going to answer it?”

“It’s Mom.” Croaked Dean, letting it ring as he pondered what to do.

Sam suddenly tore himself from the laptop and placed it on the empty side of his bed before scooching over to stare at brother, “Dean?! Answer it.”

He looked over at Sam who nodded him on coaxingly. Dean sighed and took a breath before pressing answer and holding the phone up to his ear.

“Hey Mom.” He rasped and didn’t have to wait long for a reply.

“Dean.” Said Mary back to him lovingly, “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Are you okay?” Asked the hunter, painfully aware of Sam listening in. He considered putting her on speaker before deciding not to over complicate things.

“I’m fine.” She replied, the upwards inflection in her voice slightly undermined her reassurance, “Been keeping busy you know, retracing some old steps. I just…”

Mary trailed off and they were silent for a moment.

“I know.” Said Dean. He didn’t understand, but he knew.

She cleared her throat before she spoke again. “I got your text. This phone- it takes so long to reply, too many things to press, I thought I’d call instead. You’re in Tulsa right?”

“Yeah, me and Sammy just got here the yesterday. Working another haunting.”

“And you want me in on it?”

Dean paused before answering, trying to analyse whether Mary actually wanted to be involved. After all, it was Sam who told him to ask her and she’d been the one to leave them both under her own free will. Once again, he felt railroaded between his parent and his brother.

“Only if you want I guess.” He told her quietly, wishing he didn’t sound so much like a moody teenager as he said it.

“I think I kinda got in the way last time.” Remarked Mary in a tentative tone.

“No Mom you didn’t. I just think we need time…”

“That’s what I’m trying to get-”

“I mean time _together_.” Interrupted Dean, the thinly veiled accusation in his words caused silence to break over the line once more. It wasn’t long until it was broken by Mary. 

“I’m not trying to runaway from you two, Dean.” She said softly.

“Well, it’s how it feels.” The hunter mumbled into his phone.

“It’s just been hard, being here. Everything has been so… I don’t know where I belong. I miss you boys, so much.”

Dean couldn’t work out if his mother was talking about the himself and Sam in the present or the child versions of themselves she’d left behind in heaven. They seemed to be two separate versions of themselves in Mary’s head and he found himself wondering if she ever would be able to see her sons as the men they were now, or just as the boys she’d lost.

“Where are you Mom?” Dean asked.

She laughed lightly and the sound brought him back to his childhood, “I’m in Lawrence. The house is still there- it looked just the same.”

He almost wanted to ask if she’d gone inside, or at least walked up to the porch and knocked on the door. Did what’s-her-name still live there… Jenny wasn’t it? 

Her children must be fully grown now, the thought made Dean feel older than dirt.

Their return to the house more than a decade ago had marked the first time he’d seen Mary since he was four years old. His newly resurrected mother didn’t remember being a spirit, didn’t remember looking at Sam and saying I’m sorry.

“You should come to Tulsa, you’re not far out.” Dean half pleaded with her. Sam was still sat watching him, edging closer as they waited on her decision.

“Okay.” She said finally, a hint of a smile in her voice, “I’ll come.”

Dean sighed in relief, feeling tension leave him for the time being, “Okay, we’re staying at Broken Arrow Motel- Room 6.”

“I’ll be there in a few hours then.”

“Alright. Bye Mom.” He said, beginning to pull the phone away from his ear.

“Bye Dean. And hey-“ Dean pressed the phone closer once more, “I love you.”

He glanced at Sam and looked away, feeling all of his brother’s anxious energy that was threatening to reach out and take the phone from him. Dean turned away and replied quietly, “Yeah, love you too.” before ending the call.

  


“So she’s coming?” Sam asked eagerly. Dean rubbed a tired hand roughly across his jaw before standing up and walking over to the small fridge in the corner of the room.

“On her way.” He said as he bent down to retrieve two bottles of beer and made his way back over to Sam. Dean held the drink out to his brother, who stared at it for a short moment, before taking the cool bottle out of his hand.

“Did she seem, er… Did she sound alright?” Sam struggled to get the cap off his beer where as Dean broke it free easily, levering his ring underneath it with professional precision.

“I think so.” He answered sceptically, their mother was hard to read in real life and even harder over the phone, “I guess we’ll see when she gets here, probably won’t be for another couple of hours though.”

“Where is she then?” Sam inquired as he gave up and handed the bottle over to Dean. His brother accepted it with a smug smile, opened it, and handed it back to Sam along with an answer.

“Lawrence.” 

“ _Lawrence?_ ” Repeated Sam, eyebrows raising before he thought about how right it sounded, “I guess that makes sense.”

“Does it?” Dean cast him a questioning look as he took a swig of beer.

“Well yeah… It was our home.”

“Huh, home.” 

“What is it?” Asked Sam, his turn to shoot Dean an inquisitive glance, “Do you not think she should have gone back there?”

“I think it’s too late to be chasing after the past. What’s done is done.”

The younger man watched his brother wash that wisdom away with three gulps from his bottle of beer. Sam snorted, “Wise words, I’ve never seen you follow them though.”

“Sammy, I’m a goddamn certified hypocrite.” Laughed Dean, holding his hands up weakly as if to say _you got me_ , “That do as I say not as I do line? Shit, that’s a Winchester motto if ever there was one.”

Sam laughed along too and raised his own bottle in salute, “You’re not wrong there.”

“I never am.” Smiled the older hunter and raised his bottle too. They tilted towards each other in sync then took a long drink. When Sam set his beer down on the bedside table between their beds, Dean was already up retrieving his next bottle.

“Hey, you might wanna take it slow.” Suggested Sam as he re-opened his laptop and went back to looking for records belonging to Steven, “Do you really want to be drunk for Mom getting here?”

Dean stood up, his next beer in his hand, and let the question sink in. “I think we’re way past the grounded stage Sam.”

“That’s not what I meant- wait I’ve got something.” Sam was interrupted by the excruciatingly slow database search finally retrieving four matches, “I looked into the medical files for Anhanger House, it’s thrown up four Stevens… One of these could be our guy.”

Sam opened up the first record, a man who had died in his 20s who didn’t fit the profile, and the second record belonged to a guy who had been transferred to another facility long before the home closed. But third time’s the charm, and when he read through record number three he knew it was the correct Steven just by the age and description.

“Steven Alexander Birch.” Sam read his full name from the screen, “Born in 1977, came to Anhanger when he was 7 years old, diagnosed with severe autism and aphasia. He stayed there for 10 years until he died in 1994.”

“God. Didn’t they shut down the place in 1995? Poor kid might have gotten out if he’d lived another year.” Dean sat back down on his bed and carefully moved the pile of Steven’s cards from his mother, “It say what he died of?”

“Yeah, sleep apnoea apparently. Though knowing the history of this place, it was probably partly neglect too.”

“That explains why the children who died recently were found in their beds.” Dean connected grimly.

“Hmm. I’ve found his mother’s name too. Fiona Birch… Lives in - you called it- Oklahoma City.” Sam scanned through her old next of kin contact details, “There’s an address, do you think she still lives there?”

“Maybe. Won’t hurt to check, it’s not too far away from here.” The older hunter suddenly moved and was up on his feet in an instant, obviously wanting to leave for Oklahoma City right this second.

“Dean we can’t go now.” Spluttered Sam, taken aback at Dean’s eagerness.

“Why not?”

“Er it’s night? Mom’s on her way here, and you’ve been drinking.” Sam listed off reasons and Dean laughed incrediously.

“One beer Sam!”

“It’ll have to wait ‘til tomorrow.” Sam insisted sternly, “We’ll all go together.”

They stared at each other, caught in a stalemate. Sam’s expression was a variant of his patented bitch-face, one eyebrow raised not in annoyance but in challenge- as if to say _I dare you to drag this out._

Dean caved and let Sam have his small victory. 

“Fine.” He muttered and sunk back down onto his bed.

“Good.” Sighed Sam. He opened up a new tab on his laptop and started to research the history of Anhanger House whilst they waited on their mother. The hunter kept glancing at Dean out the corner of his eye, catching him taking sips from his beer as he re-read the letters from Steven’s mother. After around an hour he began to feel uneasy about the way Dean was studying them.

“Dean- I’m pretty sure you know them off by heart now.” There was something in the way Dean’s eyes trailed across each word, as though he couldn’t fully understand them. Worry started to blossom in Sam, he set the laptop aside and stood up to loom over Dean, who looked up at him from under his brow.

“Let me see the back of your head again.” Said the younger man and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Sammy it’s fine, I told you.” He battered Sam’s hand away like he was a giant irritating fly.

“And I told you I wanted to check it later. Welcome to later.”

“Huh... Alright if it’ll make you happy.” Shrugged Dean and he couldn’t keep out the amusement in his voice at his brother’s stubbornness. He turned around and let Sam examine the back of his head. As Sam poked at the raised bump towards the base of his skull he let out a low hiss.

“Sorry.” Apologised Sam and tapped him on the shoulder to let him know he could turn back around, “The skin’s broken a little, but not nearly bad enough for stitches. It’s probably the main cause of this bump around it.”

“Am I going to live Doctor?” Dean joked, his face set in a parody of fear.

“Yeah you’ll live.” Sam smiled despite himself, but couldn’t help asking follow up questions, “You’re not seeing two or getting blurred vision or anything right?”

“Right.” Agreed Dean as he re-gathered the all the letters and cards up into a neat pile.

“And you’d tell me if you were?”

“Of course Sammy- honestly, I’m okay.”

“Alright then. Hey, why don’t you grab the first shower?” Sam suggested uneasily, attempting to get Dean to stop leafing through Steven’s letters.

“Really?” Dean’s eyebrows shot up. Sam hated using the shower second as Dean had a bad habit of running all the hot water off. “You sure I’m not dying?”

“Man just go before I change my mind.” Laughed Sam and Dean didn’t have to be told twice. He grabbed his duffel and walked into the bathroom, leaving Sam alone in the cold motel room- glaring at the imposing picture of Anhanger House on his laptop screen.

  


After Dean emerged from his shower dressed for bed, Sam walked into the steam-filled bathroom himself. The water was predictably lukewarm but he gritted his teeth through it. Sam emerged from the shower smelling of the generic body wash that had been left for them on the lopsided shelf below the mirror. Whilst he brushed his teeth he opened the bathroom door a crack to check on Dean and spotted a lump underneath the covers of the bed closest to the door. He snorted at the sight and nearly choked on his toothpaste. Exhaustion had obviously finally caught up with Dean. Once Sam re-entered the room he shuddered at the cold, no wonder Dean had taken refuge under the covers. The younger man shrugged into an old hoodie he found at the bottom of his bag and checked his watch, figuring he should stay up and wait for their mother to arrive.

  


Three hours came and went. By the time Mary arrived at Broken Arrow Motel both Sam and his laptop had fallen asleep too.

  



	5. Chapter 5

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#  ________________

  


  


When Dean had received a call from his mother earlier, Mary had been sitting inside Jaybird's Diner in her old town of Lawrence, Kansas. 

  


The place had been refurbished since she'd last came through it's doors, but the small diner still had the same atmosphere as it had 33 years ago. She sat at her and John's usual booth by the window and kept glancing at the empty seat opposite her, half-expecting to see a young John smiling back at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the whole wide world. 

To Mary, John Winchester was normality all wrapped up in a handsome package. Despite his hidden trauma from a runaway father and fighting in a pointless bloody war, John's heartbreaks were so civilian to her that Mary actually found them endearing.

They built a hollow shell of a perfect life together, hairline cracks built up for 10 years until finally the illusion came crashing down, killing her and leaving John alone with Sam and Dean. Mary's death became the catalyst that turned her husband and children into the very last thing she'd wanted them to become. _Hunters._

At least, that was the short and not-so-sweet version of her tragic life.

On the night she'd been resurrected and reunited with her eldest son, Dean had briskly summarised what had happened to them in her decades long absence and each revelation ripped her to shreds. Mary realised that in her death she had ironically turned into the figure of normality for John, emblematic of all that they'd lost. Dean never told her if his father had found out that Mary had in fact been a hunter herself, after all, in life she'd tried so hard to keep it from him. It was a tragedy really that despite how in love they had been, they'd never really known each other at all.

Finding herself caught in the tangle of memories and regrets that Lawrence was to her family, Mary decided to call her son. He'd sent her a text message earlier and she'd never noticed it until later on in the day. The effort had been too much to slowly type out everything she wanted to say, so she dialled his number instead. 

The phone call had gone... strangely to say the least. It seemed being apart hadn't fixed the awkwardness that lay heavy between her and her sons, and Mary felt foolish to think space would fix it. Dean had came across both frustrated and tired on the phone, but he seemed to want to see her all the same. Originally she'd called to make her excuses on why she couldn't come and she even got a few in before she relented and decided to work another case with her sons.

The hunter slowly made her way to the door of room no.6, anxiety and nerves kicking in as she reached the green painted wood. Mary took a deep breath and wondered if she should have travelled to Tulsa. Being with her sons in the bunker, her grown-up battle-worn sons, made feel such a cacophony of emotions it became too overwhelming.

So Mary had done what she'd always done, run away. She had run from hunting, ran from her deal with Yellow Eyes, and even ran on occasion from her life with John and the boys to finish off a few lose-ended hunts. But she couldn't outrun her past, the demon had found her easily and scorched her body off the face of the earth with a turn of his head. 

When she'd arrived in heaven she remembered her death at first, but it had been so easy to forget her own sad ending when she was surrounded by the memories of her perfect undamaged family. 

  


A doting never-absent John and two beautiful boys. 

  


She saw it now for what it was, a rose-tinted escape, but that didn't mean she didn't miss heaven like a throbbing ache. The two men inside the motel room in front of her were her sons, but her children were long gone.

Wiping away the tears collecting in her eyes, Mary shook her head quickly and forced a smile onto her face. Her hand reached out and knocked carefully, mindful of the time.

When no answer came she peered into the small cracked window by the door. The two hunters were asleep, Dean was barely visible under this bed sheet and Sam was slumped against the headboard with his computer on his lap. She sighed and wondered what to do. Mary rested her hand on the doorknob and gave it a turn. To her surprise, it was unlocked.

She had to bite back the motherly instinct of barging straight into the room and demanding to know why they had forgotten to lock the door when fear took over. Her sons were seasoned hunters, and hunters are paranoid by nature. There was no way they'd leave an entry point unlocked. 

Mary walked into the room cautiously, her hand reaching back for the gun tucked into her belt. She surveyed the dark room and spotted nothing out of the ordinary apart from some old yellowed papers and cards on Dean's bedside table. Come to think of it, she couldn't even see Dean's face, only a small patch of his spikey hair was visible. She cast a worried glance at a sleeping Sam but headed towards Dean's bed.

"Dean?" She whispered as she reached out tentatively to pull at the corner of his covers. Slowly she pulled them away from Dean's face and the man blinked up at her, his eyes slightly glazed and his face a mask of confusion.

"Hey." She smiled down at him, “Sorry it’s late, I just wanted to check up on you. Don't worry- I’ll get my own room.” 

Mary began to move away when Dean spoke in a raspy voice.

"Leaving?" He asked, sounding disorientated from sleep.

“No no I’m not leaving, I’ll see if they have room close by.” Mary reassured her son, keeping her voice down as not to disturb them more. But Dean's voice grew louder and more unrecognisable.

“Leaving?” He began to sit up slowly, as though his limbs were heavy and foreign to him, “Not time.”

“What?” Her breath appeared before her eyes and she muttered to herself, “Oh God it’s freezing in here.” 

At that point Mary knew something was seriously wrong.

“No _leaving_.” Dean repeated and got to his feet. He stood up by the bed and glared down at the collection of cards and letters by the side of the bed. Mary took her chance to run over to Sam and grab his shoulder.

"SAM! Wake up! It's Dean-" But she didn't get to finish her warning as she was sent hurtling backwards. The hunter slammed into the wall and landed in a heap on the floor.

"Mom!" Yelled Sam's voice and relief warmed her blood for a moment. She sat up to see her youngest son scrabbling out of bed and squaring off against his brother who Sam instantly realised wasn't himself.

"Home?" Asked the creature possessing Dean, his glazed eyes darting around the room.

"This isn't your home, you need to leave Steven." Sam spoke with calm authority but his hands were clenched in anger. 

Mary pieced together what was happening and assumed that this ‘Steven’ Sam was talking to must be the spirit that they were hunting. He had somehow possessed Dean, perhaps as he'd slept. 

They had to dispel the spirit and Sam proved to be a good distraction whilst she began to crawl towards a discarded bag on the floor to search for one of her son's salt guns.

"Home?" Dean's eyes went wide as terror swept through him, "Out of bed."

"Steven, you have to let go of my brother." Ordered Sam as he carefully walked over to Dean, he held his hand out in front of him in case of attack.

"O-out of b-bed. _Out of bed!_ " Cried Dean, pain and fear overtaking his features. Mary and Sam knew it was the ghost controlling him but it still hurt to see the distress etched in Dean's face.

"Calm down!" Sam made to grab at Dean but the older man sent an elbow crashing into his face. He stumbled backwards, wiping blood from his nose, before he ran at Dean and attempted to tackle him to the ground. But Steven's spirit was strong, Sam felt like he'd barrelled straight into a rock. Dean pushed him away with inhuman strength, throwing him against the same wall he'd thrown Mary into. He landed close to his mother who was desperately looking through their bags for salt or iron to defend themselves.

Just as her hands closed around a long pole that felt like a crowbar she heard Sam shout, “GET DOWN!”

Mary glanced to the side to see the two bedside tables and the objects that lay on them floating in the air around Dean. His intent was obvious from his face and Mary threw herself to the ground, covering her head with her hands, as the levitating objects went flying towards her and Sam.

  


After the impact Mary swore she heard hurried footsteps and a door opening. She scrambled upwards, moving splinted parts of the wooden cabinets off her body as she moved towards her son.

“Sam!” She shook his shoulder urgently, “Sam come on!”

“D-Dean. Where is he?” Sam asked as he to moved to get up. Mary clung onto him as they helped each other to their feet and instantly looked around the wrecked but empty room.

“I heard footsteps...” Said Mary, motioning to the door which was left ajar. They both headed through it without another word, quickly finding themselves out in the cold night and scanning the area for Dean.

Suddenly the sound of a horn and the squealing of breaks rang loud in their ears. Mary and Sam ran across the parking lot in seconds to the road in front of the motel. On the far side they spotted a car with a broken windshield in the middle of the road. A man was standing beside it yelling into the trees that lined the highway. 

“Hey!” Mary shouted at the guy as they ran up to him. “Did you hit someone?”

Sam continued running into the trees, searching for Dean, whilst Mary spoke to the man.

“He- he just came outta nowhere-” Said the middle aged man, raking a shaking hand through his hair. He was obviously rattled but he pointed in the same direction that Sam had ran, “Went bouncing off my windshield but he got up and...”

“Sorry.” Mary said in a hurry, lightly patting the man's shoulder before she took off after her sons.

“DEAN!?” She heard Sam yell for his brother the near distance. Mary followed the noise and nearly ran into the tall frame of the younger hunter.

“Woah- oh Mom it's you.” Sighed Sam, his defences lowering.

“Anything?” Mary asked despite knowing the answer. Sam eyes darted towards her, worry evident in those dark eyes that reminded her of his fathers. 

They both looked around, taking in the mess of trees and over-growth in the dark of the woods.

“That car hit him and it didn't even slow him down, he just kept running... we'll never catch up on foot.” Sam murmured, almost to himself, as he clutched his hands to the top of his head.

“What's he running from?” Mary wondered, and to her surprise Sam answered her.

“Not from. _To._ ” His arms dropped heavily to his sides and Sam turned back in the direction where they'd came from. Mary copied him and searched his face, seeing the cogs that were turning in his head, “Home. He said home. That's where Steven's taking Dean.”

Sam took off without warning, sprinting back through the trees at lightning speed whilst Mary attempted to keep up with him.

“Where!?” She yelled to him between breaths as they emerged from the trees and onto the roadside. The car that had hit Dean was no longer in the middle of the road, Mary figured the driver must have decided to cut his losses and run himself. 

As they waited to cross Sam finally answered her, “Anhanger House. We need to get there, and fast.”

They both shot across the two lanes and ran towards the black Chevrolet Impala that stood waiting for them in the motel parking lot. 

  


Mary lent against the sleek unchanged car to catch her breath whilst Sam darted back into their room to retrieve the car keys. 

  


She finally felt grateful that John hadn't bought that camper van.

  



	6. Chapter 6

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#  ________________

  


  


The short drive to Anhanger House was tense to say the least. Sam was driving particularly recklessly and sent the pile of letters he'd grabbed from the room flying to the floor of the car when he took a sharp turn. Mary quickly gathered them up and set them back down between them, as she did so her eyes caught glimpses of the handwritten text. Words like, _love always Mom_ , _I'm so sorry baby_ , and _I wish you could come back home_ jumped out at her and she swallowed hard, trying to keep her emotions in check.

“Are they what you think the ghost's- ahem\- attached to?” Asked Mary, clearing her throat midway through to politely draw Sam's attention. The man nodded curtly but didn't take his eyes off the road.

“Why didn't you burn them?” She inquired quietly and her son sighed.

“We should have, when we got back to the motel, but I guess we needed them for info...” Sam explained, his voice sounding frayed with worry and regret. Within a second however, his face set into a resolute stony expression. 

“I don't want to burn them until we've found Dean, if I'd have lit them up back there it may have ejected Steven from Dean's body while he was still in those woods, god-knows-where. At least this way-”

“We know were he's headed.” Mary finished, and Sam nodded again- more vigorously than the last time.

  


They hurtled along the uneven road up to the abandoned hospital and it didn't take long for the sleek black car to reached reach downed tree trunk that blocked the way. After shutting off the engine with a twist of the keys, Sam instantly grabbed the pile of letters and leapt out of the Impala towards the trunk to gather weapons and supplies- wasting no time at all. When Mary joined him at his side seconds later, Sam handed her a shotgun and a flashlight before stashing the letters into a duffel bag which he heaved onto his shoulder. 

In the meantime Mary quickly checked the chamber of the gun to see that it was full of salt rounds, then clicked to gun back into place, and found herself staring into the arsenal that lay in the trunk which used to hold her groceries and other trappings of ordinary life. Sam promptly slammed the trunk shut and Mary jumped, suddenly shaken from her memories.

“Come on, it's on foot from here.” Said Sam as he walked ahead.

Mary followed her son up to the imposing yet decrepit building. They ducked under the chain-link fence and scanned the overgrown grounds, looking for any sign of Dean. Taking the lead, Sam signalled for her to head left whilst he searched the right side of the building.

“Do you think he's even made it here yet?” Mary asked when they re-circled back around to where they'd started.

“Maybe not, but he was cutting through the forest- it was a more direct route than ours.” 

Without another word Sam spun around and headed towards the window on the right that he and Dean had entered yesterday afternoon. He figured this was the side of the hospital that Steven favoured, considering the right side belonged to the missing tree and was also the wing where they'd found the kids playing in the afternoon. 

After he pulled himself inside he expected to see Mary waiting on the other side ready to climb in, but she was a couple of paces behind. Sam began to feel frustration bubbling under the surface. Mary wasn't a slow or bad hunter by a long shot, he'd worked with plenty of people who were terrible at this horror show of a job to know that much. She just had the disadvantage of not being Dean. There was a short hand and so much mutual knowledge that existed between them that he simply didn't share with his mother, not to mention the generational differences in their hunting styles. Sam and Dean discovered how stuck in the past Mary was on their first case together in Minnesota, and even though she was in no way shape or form to blame for that, it still made it even harder relate to someone who was so out of her own time.

But right now they had to work past these factors to find Dean, and Sam knew that both he and Mary were just doing their best in this baptism of fire they'd both been thrown into.

He helped his mother through the window wordlessly and they both set off through the halls, checking each room and listening for the sound of Dean's footsteps. Mary's stomach dropped further with every room, the hauntingly empty sight of the metal beds crowded the dark spaces but there was no sign of Dean. Her flashlight shone through the exposed springs to throw harsh shadowed patterns onto the concrete floor. Nothing felt comforting in this wreck of a hospital, and Mary got the feeling it never had felt that way.

When they both came up empty after combing the ground floor Sam motioned upstairs. Mary nodded and followed her son. Together the two hunters headed towards the large wooden staircase. 

  


They'd only gotten halfway up the first flight of stairs when they froze simultaneously.

  


Hurried footsteps moved behind them along with the sound of rapid panicked mumbling. Sam and Mary listened intently and heard the steps move across the titled passageway and into one of the rooms they'd just searched through before stopping completely.

The two hunters shared a quick glance and noticed each other's breath appearing if front of their eyes before they cautiously turned around to look down the long hall.

They were greeted with nothing.

With their shotguns raised, they set about searching the rooms once more- Sam checked the left side of the corridor and Mary the right. Six doors in Sam stopped in his tracks.

“ _Dean._ ” He breathed and ran forwards. The sound of his boots hitting the hard floor echoed throughout the empty building. A hundred ghostly footsteps continued to run the length of Anhanger house as Sam fell to his knees at his brothers side. 

Mary gathered up her strength and quickly lost it all when she span around to see the awful scene that was unfolding inside the room.

  


Dean was lying on one of the rusting metal hospital beds, the bare springs biting into his skin. He lay on his back, blank eyes staring up towards the high ceilings. His face and arms were mess of cuts and darkening skin, no doubt from hitting the windshield of that car. The clothes he wore were now torn and dirty, grass and sticks clung to his legs and also lay tangled in his hair. This was only the surface damage, Mary dreaded to think of the potential injures they couldn't see.

The hunter watched on as Sam's hand encircled Dean's wrist and shook it gently, only to get no response. 

“Come on Dean, please don't be...” Sam's words drifted away as he placed two fingers against Dean's neck over his carotid artery, searching for a pulse. Mary stood frozen in the doorway, caught between wanting to help and wanting to run. She didn't know what to do or where she belonged in this picture, her son was on the brink of death and Mary couldn't stand the fact that she just could not rush in there without a second thought like Sam had. Instead she watched, her eyes filling with tears, as Sam felt for a pulse. 

The younger hunter suddenly removed his hand, startling Mary.

“It's weak! His pulse is weak but he's still here!” Croaked Sam as he turned to his side, expecting to see Mary knelt down next to him but instead finding nothing but empty space.

“Mom?” Sam turned around, searching for his mother, and found Mary stood like a stone statue in the doorway staring blankly at Dean.

“ _Mom._ ” He pleaded this time, desperation and confusion shining in his wide eyes. They caught Mary's own and finally broke her stasis. She staggered forward before stopping and wiping her watery eyes, a move that seemed to temporally pull the broken pieces of herself back together, then ran over to her sons.

Sam sagged slightly in relief and it killed Mary to see that for a split second Sam knew that Mary was battling with the shrieking voices in her head telling her to runaway from this nightmare, and how close she had been to listening to them. 

“God, Dean.” She whispered as she lay a hand on her son's forearm before recoiling at the touch, “He's- he's so cold Sam.”

“I know, we need to get him out of here.” Said Sam hurriedly, beginning to manoeuvre Dean's torso and legs up so that he could slide his hands underneath the unconscious man. 

“Wait!” Cried Mary, earning a glare of scrutiny from Sam that she'd never been subject to before. It's intensity threw her off for a second before she regained her composure.

“We need to burn-” She pulled the stack of Steven's yellowing letters and cards from Sam's abandoned duffle bag, “ _These._ ”

Sam opened his mouth to reply but instead he gave her a sharp nod as he pulled Dean up into his arms. Mary took that as sign of approval and quickly placed the birthday and Christmas cards along with the handwritten letters into a pile on the floor, before grabbing a silver Zippo and some lighter fluid from the bag. 

She quickly dozed the paper in the accelerant and looked up at her younger son. Dean's head lay against Sam's chest as he held his brother's shoulder and legs in a death grip. Carrying a full grown man was no mean feat, but Sam showed no strain in his face whatsoever. 

With a click of the lighter the flame appeared right before her eyes. Mary stared into it's dancing orange peaks and cool blue base with destain for an element that she hated yet feared so much. 

She let the Zippo fall to the floor and it ignited the papers with a disturbing _whumpf_. Flames leapt up at her feet, making her stumble backwards as they ate away at the letters from Steven's mother. Mary's eyes suddenly flew up to her sons, hoping to see a stirring Dean in Sam's arms.

  


Hope once again proved to be a foolish thing as Dean looked just as bad as he did when they'd found him laying on the metal bed, if not worse. 

“Hey, Dean?” Sam shook him slightly as Mary walked over to them. She couldn't help but feel that something hadn't worked, to be honest the hunter had been expecting at least some interference as she set fire to the papers. Ghosts usually attempted to stop you from destroying the objects they were tied to, and yet nothing had happened. In this life if anything seemed too easy, it wasn't right.

She moved to stand in front of Sam so she could look down at Dean. Even in the warm glow from the small fire below them, Dean's skin had an awful blue tinge to it. 

Mary quickly put the back of her hand against Dean's lips then looked up to Sam, her eyes wide with fear, “I don't think he's breathing!” 

Sam's face fell as he glanced down at the corpse-like sheen that had begun to spread over Dean's features.

“No. No, no, no, no, no...” The younger man muttered whilst he sunk to the ground, placing Dean down on the concrete floor at Mary's feet. Once more she felt her body seize up in shock as she gazed at her eldest son's lifeless body. Not for the first time since her return she found her self wondering that she hadn't actually been brought back to life, but instead cast down to hell.

“Mom- mom! Look- at- me!” Yelled Sam, once again snapping her out of her paralysis. His voice sounded jerky and she soon found out why, both of Sam's hands were placed on top of each other on the center of Dean's ribcage as he rhythmically pressed down on his brother's chest. “When- I- tell- you, you- need- to- give- him- mouth- to- mouth, -okay?” 

“Y-yeah, yeah I'll-” Her words fell clumsily out of her mouth as from her as Mary dropped to the floor. As if moving in a dream, she tilted Dean's head back, ready for the signal. 

Her eyes travelled down to Dean's chest as it moved up and down from Sam's compressions. The memory of a car horn echoed in her ears and she winced at strength of which Sam pressed into Dean's injured body, “H-he was hit by a car Sam, should you really-”

“I'm- not- letting- him- _die._ ” Gasped Sam between compressions, his eyes aflame with determination. After two more beats Sam withdrew his arms and glared fiercely at his mother and roared, “ **NOW!** ”

  


Right on cue Mary lifted Dean's chin and pinched his nose closed. The hunter breathed in as she leant down and breathed as steadily as she could into his mouth. She pulled back to see the subtle rise and fall of Dean's chest for a second and prayed to the heavens before leaning back over her son to give a second rescue breath. 

This time after she pulled away Dean's green eyes flew open in confusion and panic. He gasped as he pulled in as much air as possible and attempted to scramble upwards. The two hunters held him down and Sam tried to grab his attention.

“Dean! Dean calm down, is it you in there?” He asked as Dean struggled against them like a caught animal. The man didn't reply, he only continued to wrestle his family and breathe in air like he was suffocating. Mary and Sam shared a quick look and confirmed to each other that they were pretty certain that Steven was still possessing Dean just going by the far-off feral look in his eyes. Mary let go him, allowing Sam to pin Dean down whilst she searched through their bags to grab a salt canister and the iron crowbar she'd laid hands on back at the motel.

“Sam!” She called to her son and held them up. Sam looked over his shoulder as he grappled with Dean and his eyes darted between the two objects.

“The crowbar!” He decided, figuring a forced ejection from a fist full of salt was only going to make it even harder for Dean to breathe.

Mary nodded and quickly passed the crowbar into Sam's one outstretched hand. As soon as he grabbed a hold of it he let go of Dean for a second before gripping the iron rod at each ends. He then brought the crowbar down onto Dean's bare neck.

  


Upon contact from the iron Dean's struggles instantly got even more frantic and he threw his head back as far as he could to scream in pain. Mary once again dropped to the floor and helped to keep him pinned down as she tried and failed to block out the sound of her son screaming at the top of his lungs right next to her.

Sam continued to press the crowbar against Dean's skin at the top of his sternum, trying to keep contact but not strangle his brother by keeping from putting pressure on his windpipe. He watched as Dean tossed his head from side to side, his eyes now scrunched up with agony. Sam blinked hard as he swore he was beginning to see shadowy figure move out of sync with Dean's movements, almost as though it was separating itself from his body.

“Let him go Steven!” Yelled Sam as the wispy figure's features grew stronger into that of the spirit they were hunting, confirming that he wasn't just seeing things. 

Steven's transparent face screamed along with Dean, a mirror's image of each other, as the ghost seemed to almost completely peel itself out of the older hunters body.

Their yells built into a crescendo that made Mary let go of her son and clutch her own ears. Sam however continued to hold on to the crowbar at his brother's neck, only angling his right ear against his shoulder to try and block out the noise.

  


The screams stopped abruptly, seeming to suck in all the sound and air in the room like a vacuum, before Steven's spirit gave one last deafening yell.

  


The ghost disappeared with a flash of white, propelling the crowbar backwards and Sam along with it.

  



	7. Chapter 7

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#  ________________

  


  


“Sam!” Came the fearful voice of his mother from above him. Sam groaned as he pushed himself up off the hard floor to see Mary standing two feet away from him. She was almost comically froze between her two sons, her head was looking worriedly at Sam but her body twisted towards Dean.

  


In that moment Sam realized why their father was always reluctant to have all three of the Winchesters out on a hunt. Having a partner with you was integral, you need someone to watch your back, but add an extra person and the margin for error gets wider. And having another family member with them _did_ make them more vulnerable. 

When he was younger and was first exposed to what was really out there, Sam became terrified that he would one day become the soul survivor of a hunt- and he knew that that was John's ultimate fear too. He'd once told them with steely resolve that he would not watch his children die, his jaw set tight as he refused to let it happen. But injuries on hunts were common place and on occasion both Sam and Dean had been injured whilst fighting against monsters with John, and right now as he watched his mother stuck between which son to run towards, he remembered the torn look his father had often worn too.

“I'm okay,” Sam said softly, trying to alleviate some of Mary's concern. As soon as he sat up his eyes darted towards Dean, who thankfully seemed to be stirring.

The younger hunter was up on his feet and scrabbling over to his brother in a matter of seconds. Dean scrunched up his eyes in pain as Sam placed a trembling hand on his arm and shook him gently. 

“Dean? Are you with us?” 

“Sammy?” Came a croaked reply which made Sam drop his head in relief.

“You scared us, man.” Laughed Sam uneasily, “How are you feeling?”

“Like I've been hit by a car.” The injured hunter muttered as he attempted to sit up.

“Funny you should say that- hey!” Dean began to fall backwards but Sam and Mary grabbed Dean's arms before his head could hit the floor and lowered him back down.

Dean turned to look at Mary when they let go of him, only just seeming to notice her presence. “Mom? You're here?”

Seeing the disbelief that shone in Dean's eyes felt like a knife to the heart. She stared back at her son for a moment before she smiled against the hurt and cupped his chin, “I told you I'd come didn't I? Though I didn't get the welcome I was expecting.”

The man looked down as a succession of small images ran through his head... Being awakened by his mother only to find he wasn't in control of his own body. Feeling Steven's panic as he realised he was out of bed. The sudden glare of headlights and screeching of breaks as the ghost ran him straight through a path of traffic ending with a full body impact onto sleek metal. 

But it _didn't_ end there. Steven's spirit picked up his rattled body and make him tear through the woods, branches snaring and tugging at his skin whilst he sprinted up to Anhanger House, all the while Steven's voice in his head, speaking with his tongue... _Out of bed... Out of bed... Bad things happen... Out of bed..._

“The motel...” Dean remembered tossing his family across the room and the strange feeling of levitating the furniture, only to propel it at them. He shook his head, “I threw you both... are you okay?”

Sam looked at him in amazement, “Dean you're the one who nearly died. We just had to do CPR on you!”

“And it worked obviously.” His brother dismissed this information and scrutinized his family with a furrowed brow, “So are you two okay?”

“Unbelievable.” Sam threw his hands up in annoyance but he wore a soft smile on his lips. His brother's concern for others both himself could be irritating but it was sure as hell endearing.

“Sam, we need to find a way out of here.” Interrupted Mary before turning her head to tell Sam quietly, “He needs a hospital. A functioning one.”

“No hospitals.” Came Dean's voice from below them, defiant as ever.

“Dean have you been listening? You stopped breathing. And I didn't even mention the part where you bounced off the windshield of a car and ran all the way here through the forest.” Argued Sam, his eyes fixed on Dean's pinched face that was unsuccessfully trying to hide the pain he was obviously feeling, “You need checking out.” 

The older man looked towards his mother, who nodded in agreement with Sam, and let out a shaky breath.

“Alright, but can we at least check out of here first?” He relented and Sam smiled in thanks. His younger brother patted him on the shoulder and looked out into the hallway.

“The car's back were we left it before, I don't think I can carry you that far.”

“I can walk.”

Sam scoffed, “You can barely sit up.”

“Just give me a chance, and a hand.” Said Dean as he tried to lever himself up again. Mary held out her hand and Dean latched onto it with a death-like grip, startling her. She looked into her son's eyes expecting to see the ghost looking back at her once more but she only saw Dean, which she hated to admit actually scared her more. He stared back at her for a moment, vulnerability showing on his injured face before disappearing the instant he looked away. Sam held out his arm too, Dean took it and pulled himself into a sitting position before Sam and Mary moved each of his arms over their shoulders. 

  


On the count of three the Winchesters heaved themselves up. Once they steadied Dean and were on their feet, the family slowly moved out of the room and into the hallway looking like three-legged race competitors that were attempting to fight their way out of no man's land.

Once they reached the window on the right, which was the only exit, they had a hard time manoeuvring Dean through it.

Despite the slow speed the two men and their mother were reduced to, they finally made it out onto the overgrown grounds of the hospital, stumbling over the terrain together as Dean's feet began to drag. By the time they made it to the wire fence Sam and Mary were struggling to keep his weight up.

“Come on Dean, we're almost there. You can't make me carry you the rest of the way dude.” Huffed Sam as he pulled Dean under the gap in the fence whilst Mary held the corner of the torn chain link up to avoid it causing her son any further injury.

“I'll walk.” Dean clenched his teeth and used Sam to heave himself back to his feet. Mary rushed to his other side, pulled his arm over her again, and lay a hand across his chest to stop him teetering forward. Despite his best efforts he couldn’t help but release a cry of pain at the contact.

“Oh God, I'm so sorry Dean. Is your chest hurt?” Asked Mary in a hurry, withdrawing her hand quickly as Dean's face tightened.

“Ahh- it's fine.” He insisted, but the hunter's expression told a different story. In spite of this he took a stumbling step forward, propelling Mary and Sam on, “Let's just get out of here can we?”

"Don't worry, we're not far.” Consoled Sam whilst he tried to keep his concerned face hidden. His wavering eyes stared out down the cracked tarmac road that was barely visible due to the overgrowth of the forest. 

Sam was right, they weren't far at all. In fact, he could see the downed tree which blocked the Impala's path and the car lay obediently behind it. He felt Dean sag in relief at the sight of the vehicle and Sam threw his mother, who held up Dean's other side, a glance. 

Her face was older than he ever remembered seeing it, lines were etched into her skin like hairline cracks and her lips were set in a thin grimace. Sam thought naively that as they dragged themselves closer to the Impala her face would lighten, but it didn't. 

She bore the burden of her son's weight as though it was the weight of the entire world. 

And it burned Sam so much to see it he had to avert his gaze.

  


Thankfully they arrived at the door of the car just as Dean's feet began to buckle once more. Mary let go of Dean's wrist, which kept his arm across her shoulders, and moved forwards to open the door to the back seat. Sam held Dean up on his own for a brief second before helping him into the car.

Mary watched on as Sam attempted to get Dean into a comfortable position. She hovered behind them feeling completely useless. Her feet inched forward to help but she didn't want to crowd them. Finally after becoming sick of idly standing by she called out to her sons and asked, “Do you want me to drive?” 

Keeping a hand on Dean's shoulder to keep him upright, Sam turned to look at Mary with a grateful smile and fished in his pocket for the keys.

“Thanks Mom.” He said as he handed her the silver keys and she took them with baited breath. It felt strange to have them back in her hands after so long. Mary eyed the keys with a sense of nostalgia before she realised that they no longer held the small key ring John had bought in Reno when they got married way back in 1975. She wondered if it had been lost in the decades since she'd died, or perhaps John himself had tossed it away, hating the reminder every time he drove the Impala further and further away from their home... from her death.

“Sam quit fussing!” Came Dean's weak voice from behind her, snapping her out of her dark thoughts, before he heard him say in an undertone, _“Go help Mom.”_

She felt her heart crack at those words and tightened her hand around the keys, their jagged edges bit into her palm and brought her back into the present.

Before Sam could ask if she was okay, Mary wrenched open the car door and jumped into the drivers seat. The keys instinctually found their way to the ignition and she revved the Impala's engine. The car let out a deep growl that had at scared her at one point in time...

She'd never wanted a muscle car or even really thought about one before John turned up with the Impala on the road outside her house, telling Mary it had a four barrel carburettor like it made any difference to her. He'd drove her around the streets of Lawrence with her clutching onto the door for dear life whilst John stared out of the windshield with a unbeatable smile on his face as he gunned the engine. Whatever or whoever had possessed the man to buy the car sure did know him well. At the time she'd thought the car had been made for John, that was until she saw the way Dean looked at the vehicle.

The Impala had definitely found it's true calling after the fire. Back when John and Mary settled down into their suburban life the car settled down with them. Somehow during those years she began to empathise with the car as she too felt uncomfortable in a life she'd desperately wanted but had always felt uneasy in. The car had never been a family saloon and it had been unnatural to force it into being one. 

It felt strange to be at the wheel again. She gripped it tight and looked into the rear view mirror, expecting to see a 5 year old Dean and Sam in his baby seat sat in the back of the car. But instead her grown-up sons sat in their place, Dean leaning heavily on Sam as the younger man looked at a discarded map.

  


“There's a medical center not far from here.” Sam said as he traced his finger along the road, “I'm not sure if it's urgent care or not.”

“Might be closed.” Muttered Dean with his eyes shut, his brother instantly shook him to make him reopen them and Dean obeyed only to give him an annoyed look.

“No harm in checking.” Sam caught Mary's eye in the mirror and held it. The two hunters felt equally trapped by each other's gaze. 

Sam broke the small silence that had fallen upon them by asking tentatively, “Mom, are you good?”

For short amount of time the only sound in the car was that of Dean's heavy laboured breathing as Mary thought about that simple yet impossible question. She considered telling her son that 'good' could not be further from how she felt and she didn't know whether or not she would ever experience that feeling again in this alien world.

  


But she smiled. 

  


She smiled and nodded to her son before she finally tore her eyes away from Sam's captive stare. Tears pricked at her eyes but she didn't let them fall. 

  


Then she drove.

  


  


* * * * * * * * 

  


  


The Impala found it's way to the small medical center which boasted a sign for Urgent Care, and to both Sam and Mary's relief it was open 24 hours. 

  


Mary pulled the long black car up to the entrance and Sam jumped out before they even came to a stop. He disappeared through the bulky entrance doors and returned soon after with a wheelchair. At the sight of it Dean let out a large sigh and glared daggers at Sam, who completely ignored his hostility as he helped him out of the car and into the wheelchair despite Dean's constant complaints.

The resurrected hunter watched Sam wheel his brother into the medical center and caught a glimpse of the nurse that stood on the other side of the doors waiting for the two brothers before they shut on Mary once again, effectively blocking her out. 

She swallowed hard, pulled away from the entrance, and manoeuvred the car into the tight parking lot. After four minutes of being reacquainted with the Impala's bad turning radius, she finally parked the car.

The clock on the dash read 5:15 and the night sky was finally beginning to lift. Sitting in silence, she looked out at the harsh concrete building in front of her. The sudden urge to tear out of Tulsa with the Impala, taking the last piece of John along with her, overwhelmed Mary for a moment before she came crashing back down to earth. She knew she had to go in, she couldn't turn tail now. Maybe her boys didn't depend on her, maybe she hadn't found her new place in this fractured family yet, but she _could_ be here for them for at least one more day.

She walked slowly into the medical center, the harsh glowing white lights jarred her vision for a moment before her eyes refocused on the reception desk where a bored looking woman sat clicking her computer mouse. 

  


“Hi.” Mary said politely, drawing the woman's gaze away from a game of solitaire she was playing, “My sons just checked in a minute ago.”

“Name?” She asked as she looked up at Mary with her dark rimmed eyes. The hunter's mouth fell open stupidly, at a loss for what name they must have checked in under. The woman raised an eyebrow at her as Mary tried to come up with an explanation when a hand landed on her shoulder, making her jump.

“Mom, we're just through here.” Sam had appeared out of nowhere, saving her. She let him steer her down the short corridor to the end room.

“They said the doctor will be with him soon.” Said Sam as he opened the door for her. Mary took one last look down the deserted hallway and walked into Dean's room to see her son sitting up in the hospital bed with an arm clutched against his chest.

“Come on in, there's plenty of room!” Dean titled his head towards the two empty beds beside him.

“I think they just put him in here so he doesn't disturb the other patients.” Grinned Sam as he took a seat next to his brother.

Just as Mary walked over to take the other seat by Dean's bed, the door opened. The three Winchesters looked towards the new presence in unison.

“Dean Townsend is it?” The doctor asked, consulting his clipboard, whilst Mary ducked her head and smiled at the name they'd chosen.

Dean nodded in response, “That's me.”

“Great, well I'm here to examine your injures. Do you want your family in the room with you or...?”

He left the question open as Dean exchanged looks with Sam. The two men began a small argument under their breaths which got progressively louder until Dean turned away and spoke to the Doctor.

“I'll be fine on my own. You guys go grab some coffee.” 

Sam took one last frustrated look at his brother before relenting. He stood up and walked out of the room, saying something to the doctor on the way out that neither Dean nor their mother heard. Mary then moved to follow him, gripping Dean's hand and offering him a smile before she left. 

  


Her younger son stood waiting for her in the corridor and they both set off in search of a coffee machine.

“He's always like this.” Vented Sam as they walked past the front desk, “He never wants anyone to know his injuries, like it somehow makes him weak.”

“Maybe he just doesn't want to worry you.” Mary suggested, empathizing with Dean. Sometimes you have to hide your pain from your children to spare them.

Since returning, it hadn't taken her long to realise the maternal instinct that Dean seemed to have over his brother. From what Dean had told her about their life on the road, John seemed to be absent on hunts throughout the majority of their childhood, and she knew that Dean must have taken up the mantle of mother in the wake of Mary's death- and long after it. As a boy he'd always been so caring, consoling Mary when she and John were going through a rough patch and helping with Sammy whenever he got the chance. Just looking at Sam now, she knew Dean had done a great job in such terrible circumstances. 

“Huh, well it's not going to stop me.” Joked Sam as they neared a row of vending machines. 

“You boys...” Mary laughed fondly whilst Sam began to pat himself down for coins. “This isn't the first time you've ended up in hospital is it?”

It was Sam's turn to laugh, “Not by a long shot. I can't tell you how many times...”

Her son's face began to darken as bad memories clearly raced through his brain. Mary watched as Sam eventually pulled himself out of his daze and brought a crinkled 5 dollar bill out of his pocket.

  


“Here.” He handed her the bill, “You choose.”

  


  


* * * * * * * * 

  


  


They arrived back at Dean's room carrying three extremely bitter cappuccinos. The doctor had vanished, instead a nurse stood by Dean's bedside, filling a syringe.

  


“Hi there!” She said cheerfully as Sam and Mary made their way into the room, “I'm just about give Dean a small injection of morphine to help him with the pain.”

“I told them not to.” Complained Dean, looking like a petulant child.

“Trust me, it's going to make the world of difference.”

“Oh I know it will.” Dean muttered, looking forward to the pain subsiding but dreading the numbness and lack of control he was about to experience. Right now, he needed his wits about him.

Sam smirked as sat down next to Dean before turning serious again, “What did the doctor say?”

“Why don't you ask Nurse Ratched here, I bet she can fill you in.”

“Boy I've never heard that one before.” The nurse said sarcastically as she moved Dean's arm, “You're going to feel a little prick.”

 _“Have you ever heard that one before?”_ The hunter quipped quietly as she inserted the needle into his arm and injected the morphine.

“I heard that.” She laughed and removed the syringe, “There. You should start to feel it working soon.”

Dean fell back against his bed and sighed, “Great.”

“So what are his injuries then?” The words fell out of Sam's mouth in a hurry and the nurse gave him a sympathetic smile. 

“Well the most serious is his rib cage, he's got three cracked ribs with one at risk from a floating fracture. I've just cleaned some of the multiple cuts to his arms and head, dressed some of the deeper ones... His legs are pretty badly bruised but thankfully nothings broken. Could have been worse, that car must have been going slow.”

Mary realised Sam must have told the staff that Dean had been ran down, which was at least part of the story. 

“Yeah, coulda been worse.” Agreed Sam, looking at his brother, “What about his breathing? I mentioned to the doctor that he's been having some trouble...”

"Seems to be fine at the moment, he just needs to keep his lungs clear as his ribs heal. Taking 10 slow breaths every hour will help." The nurse started to gather up her equipment, “I'll be back a moment to clean up the last of his cuts and then the doctor will check on him in about an hour or so but really he's free to go, we've done all we can.”

  


Even though he knew she meant that Dean was well enough to leave when he wanted, those words rattled inside his brain, reminding him of a different time. A time when the doctors really had done all they could for Dean, when they'd all but sentenced him to death... _A couple weeks, at most, maybe a month._

“Thank you.” Said Mary to the nurse and Sam watched as she adjusted the pillow behind Dean's head. 

“No problem.” She smiled and walked out of the room, leaving Sam, Mary, and Dean in silence for a few seconds before Dean spoke.

“You hear that? Free to go.” He swung his legs off the bed, his limbs moving awkwardly, “Come on lets hit the road.”

“Woah, woah!” Sam pulled him back onto the hospital bed with the help of Mary, “She also said she'll come back and so will the doctor Dean. Anyway you need to rest, let that morphine get through your system.”

“Look Sam, I let you drag me here against my will. I've seen the doctor and all they've done is load me up with drugs and rub some antiseptic on me! I could have done that by my freaking self! We _need_ to leave.”

“Why are you in such a hurry to go?” Asked Sam in exasperation. 

“Because this isn't over Sam!" Yelled Dean, pulled off the Oximeter clipped onto his finger. Sam watched as the heart monitor display went off before Dean grabbed his attention again by telling them matter-of-factly, "Steven isn't gone.”

“What?” Sam and Mary asked in unison, their blood running cold. Sam stood up suddenly, “You mean he's still...”

“No he's not still _possessing_ me. He's somewhere else, I know it. You just ejected him from me.”

“But we burnt the letters.” Mary said, thinking back to what had happened back at Anhanger House as Sam took his seat again.

“That didn't eject him, the iron did." Dismissed Dean, "Anyway that proves my point. I think the letters were only tying him to Anhanger. Something else might be tying him to earth.”

“Like what? A body?” Sam was now taking his brother very seriously and leaned forward in his chair.

“Maybe, or another object.” Suggested Dean and clumsily wiped a hand over his sweating brow, “There's only one way to find out. We have to go to Oklahoma City.”

“Oklahoma City?” Repeated Mary, taken aback by the unwavering certainty in his voice.

  


“Yeah. We need to visit Steven's mother.”

  



	8. Chapter 8

* * * *

#  ________________

  


  


After Mary drove the Impala to the medical center she found that she was reluctant to hand the keys over. 

  


Luckily her two sons were arguing over who should drive, with Dean insisting he could still drive with cracked ribs and that Sam should catch some shut eye in the back. Sam, still annoyed that they'd left the medical center so soon, retorted that if anyone should be in the back it was Dean. After coming to a stalemate, Mary stepped in and said she would drive, meaning they both could get some rest on the nearly 2 hour journey to Oklahoma City. Both Sam and Dean seemed to want to argue further but Mary shot them both a motherly warning look that she had to dust off from when Dean was a child. 

Surprisingly, they both gave in. 

As Mary got into the car she found her self thinking that she'd never had to stop an argument between her boys before. The child and baby she'd left behind in heaven had never bickered, mostly because Sammy couldn't even speak yet- only babble incomprehensibly. A lump formed in her throat when she realised the first time she'd heard her youngest son speak, that she could remember, was when she'd come to rescue them from that basement. 

The bloodied man tied to a chair couldn't have looked further than her innocent baby, that was until she remembered the last time she'd seen Sam... 

_Mary stared down in horror and fear from where she'd been pinned to the ceiling. She saw her son beaming up at her as though she were playing a game. Suddenly a sharp white-hot pain dragged along her stomach as she felt it being carved open. She couldn't help the scream that left her lips. A scream that alerted her husband. She heard his hurried steps up the stairs and watched him enter the room. He looked at Sam so lovingly whilst she was froze above, slowing bleeding._

__

_The blood from her torn stomach dripped down gently onto Sam before the burning heat exploded around her..._

  


Gunning the engine and tearing out of the parking lot helped to chase those memories away, in fact she pulled away so fast her sons grabbed onto the side on the car.

  


She found that John had been right all along, the only way to drive this car was fast.

  


Dean sat beside her in the passenger seat after successfully convincing Sam he could rest just as well in the front of the car. The younger man didn't seem too happy about it but he let Dean have his own way. When they were finally on the road to Oklahoma City, Dean started to scan through the radio station with a smirk on his face before he found a station playing ' _A Whiter Shade of Pale_ ' and lent back looking proud of himself.

“You Jerk.” Muttered Sam as he kicked Dean's seat.

His brother laughed as Sam already began to yawn, “Enjoy the music bitch.”

It was 6:03 am when the song finished, and Sam was out like a light.

Dean glanced behind him to check on his sleeping brother and smiled as the radio station began to play a Carpenters song.

“Soft rock,” He said to Mary, “Never fails to knock him out.”

His mother grinned too, “I used to sing him Hey Jude when he was a baby, you too.”

“I remember.” Dean replied, staring out the windshield as though he was lost to his memories like Mary herself so often was.

“Do you remember much? I mean, before the fire?”

“About you?” Her son asked, turning his head towards her.

“About everything, not just me. About life, our n-”

“Normal life? Huh, of course I do Mom. Sometimes it was all that kept me going, and all I ever wanted for Sam.” 

“It's what I wanted for both of you boys.” Said Mary sadly.

Dean sighed and wiped a weary hand down his face. “It didn't quite work out that way, but in the end... We turned out alright. When I think about how much worse it could have been, what kids like Steven went through...”

The woman took in Dean's downcast look and thought back to the other spirit case she'd worked with Sam and Dean before she decided to leave. She could still feel the awful greedy voice of Moriarty, the ghost who'd possessed her and fought with Dean, reverberating in her head. Mary wondered if Dean had gone through a similar experience.

“When he possessed you, could you hear his thoughts in your head?” She asked. 

The man stared at Mary for a second before looking down, “Kinda. They were scattered, like small images and jolts of memories. A lot of them about the hospital... Then some about his mother. The ones attached with hospital I could feel the pain and fear, but the flashes of his mother only came with mixes of anger and I dunno... Maybe love was in there too.”

Mary swallowed, hating how close to home this was hitting.

“You think he felt angry with her for leaving him?” She asked tentatively.

“Maybe more like confused.” Reasoned Dean. “I guess it didn't make sense to him, and then he got used to the abuse at Anhanger. Getting shoved into overcrowded rooms. Fed meager rations if anything at all. Guards beating the patients if they were out of their beds. Seemed like hell, and I don't say that lightly.”

Mary fell silent for a moment, feeling like those last words were heavily loaded. She found herself not wanting to inquire further just by the expression on Dean's face, but instead she thought about Steven and inevitably the other children's horrible treatment at Anhanger House. However, it didn't take long for her thoughts to stray back towards her children and their own childhood.

“Nothing... Nothing bad like that happened to you and Sam did it?” Mary turned her head quickly towards Dean and found his keen green eyes staring back at her with an eyebrow raised. Mary cleared her throat and clarified, “When you were kids I mean?”

“We had our fair share of monsters, but thankfully not many of the human kind.” Her son said stoically as he turned around to glance at a still sleeping Sam.

Mary, on the other hand, couldn't have felt more awake. She also looked at her youngest son in the rear view mirror, but found she couldn't look at her eldest. Instead she kept her eyes locked to the road as she spoke again.

“I know I keep saying it, but I am sorry Dean. For all of it. I never wanted...If I could change things...”

“Hey, I know you didn't.” Jumped in Dean, cutting her short. After a few seconds he lent his elbow against the window and rested his head in his hand, “But what happened, happened Mom. And as I've said everything that me and Sam have been through, it's shaped us in to who we are. I just wish you could see that without the feeling... well, the guilt.”

His mother couldn't stop the sad smile that crept up on her lip, “Dean, I'm not sure I'll ever be free of that.”

“No I don't think you will.” Agreed Dean, shocking Mary slightly, “Not if you don't stop running from us. We're _your sons_ Mom.”

He didn't say it harshly, but it was the worn out tone in which he said it that really drove a stake into her chest. Mary could help but agree yet argue at the same time.

“It's not that simple though is it?” She said, still staring out at the open road.

“Maybe it's not.” Replied Dean, “Nothing in our lives have been. But I can't... I don't want to go through all of this again.”

Mary blinked, “All of what?”

“Dad.” Came Dean's reluctant reply. “He would leave on a hunt for days at a time when we were kids. I got that. It's how it was, and he always came back- almost always at least. But when he left when Sam was at Stanford, and we spent all that time searching for him...”

Dean stopped, shaking himself out of a spiral of internal thoughts. Thoughts Mary was willing to bet he'd rarely voiced out loud. 

In a few moments he seemed to have recentered himself and continued, “There were times I thought he was never coming back. And when you left the bunker...”

“You thought I'd never come back.” She finished for him.

“When I was four, you didn't.”

There was no malice behind what Dean had said, only sadness. Yet still she found she had nothing to say to it.

  


Despite Mary's return, Dean still felt grief over his mothers death all those years ago in the same way that Mary was still grieving for the loss of her children. She felt sure that she'd been brought back to life to help ease this pain, like she was a puzzle piece meant to make her sons whole again. But how could she when Mary herself was so broken? 

She felt like they were all drowning, struggling to keep their heads afloat, and she wondered who would be the first to finally give in and drown.

Dean's hand reached out and steadily turned the volume up on the radio, thankfully releasing either one of them from the obligation to speak any more. 

  


The uneasy silence followed them all the way to Oklahoma City, the only sounds coming from the various rock songs that the DJ on the radio decided were worthy of playing and Sam's soft snores.

  


  


* * * * * * * * 

  


  


At 7:18 am in the early dawn they arrived outside of Fiona Birch's small modest looking home. Dean stared at the building with a strange curiosity. The latticed windows reminded him of the chain link fence that surrounded Anhanger House.

  


“It's seven in the morning...” Said Mary, startling Dean. Her tone of voice implied that they should wait. 

It had been so quiet in the car after their heart to heart came to a shuddering halt that for a moment he'd forgotten she was here. His mind had slipped back to thinking he was on a stakeout with Sam sleeping in the back- a situation that he'd been in more times than he could count.

“This can't wait.” Dean replied hoarsely. He attempted to turn around to shake Sam awake but he stopped short when his ribs decided to yell in agony at being twisted. When the fuzzy blackness that had ate away at the corners of his vision dispersed Dean realised that it he'd actually been the one who'd yelled.

“ _Dean!_ Dean, are you okay? You gotta breathe.” Said a worried Sam who'd obviously been awoken by Dean's cry. It wasn't the wake up that he'd planned for his brother but it had worked all the same. 

“S-stellar advice there S-Sam.” Joked Dean between breaths as the pain subsided, “I was just trying to interrupt your beauty sleep.”

“Huh, well you achieved that.” Said Sam from beside him. Dean turned his head to see the car door wide open and Sam kneeling down next to him looking concerned, which was pretty much his default expression.

“Get outta my face.” The older man gave Sam a light push to make him move but his brother remained where he was. His sharp brown eyes were looking behind him towards their mother and Dean turned his head to do the same.

“Hey Mom, you think we should go to the door?” Asked Sam hesitantly, attempting to bring her into the conversation. 

Mary sighed, the voice that both Sam and Dean sometimes used when they spoke to her was starting to annoy her. It was as though they though she was fragile, like she couldn't handle things. However, the annoyance soon changed to sadness when she realised that they were just trying not to push or upset her. 

“Yeah. This can't wait.” She repeated Dean's words and got out of the car. When she looked across at Steven's mother's house she found Sam's head blocking part of the view.

“Should probably take some fed badges with us.” He suggested lightly and Mary nodded in agreement. She watched as Sam bent back down into the car and heard the glove compartment open. A moment later he popped back up, only this time Dean had stood up too and was currently shaking off Sam's helping hand.

“Alright. No time like the present.” Said Dean as he strode off along the side walk and up the small path to the house. Sam and Mary shared a look before they hurriedly ran after Dean, just catching up with him as he neared the entrance.

  


The three Winchesters stood side by side as Dean leaned forwards to knock loudly on the screen door. 

To their surprise, the front door opened almost immediately.

  


The woman who stood on the other side of the screen looked like death warmed up. Her curly greying hair stuck out at strange angles and deep bags lay beneath her reddened eyes. She held onto a coffee mug that seemed empty and wore dishevelled-looking pyjamas underneath a thin jersey dressing gown. The slight frosting on the screen door gave her a strange unearthly visage reminding Dean of, quite literally, a ghost.

“You've been waiting outside my house in that car for 5 minutes now.” She eyed each one of them suspiciously, bringing her face closer to the glass.

“Sorry.” Spoke Mary before Sam or Dean could say anything, “We just didn't want to disturb you at this hour.”

“But you decided to anyway?” Said the woman with a sceptical look on her face. 

Mary laughed uneasily and pressed on, “Are you Fiona Birch?”

“I am.” She replied, looking more concerned, “What's it to you?”

“We're the F.B.I.” Broke in Dean, “We're looking into some deaths related to Anhanger House.”

At the mention of that place the grip that Fiona had on the mug in her hand slackened and it looked dangerously close to falling to the floor.

“Our records show your son stayed there?” Mary said softly, her motherly sympathy bleeding into her words.

Fiona nodded away tears and breathed in to regain her hostile demeanour, “Lets see some badges.”

The hunters each dove into their pockets and brought out their fake I.Ds. One after another they pressed them up against the screen door for Fiona to scrutinize. After she'd seen them all the woman reached for latch and opened the dividing door.

“You better come in then.” She said and turned away into the house, leaving them to step over the threshold and down the darkened messy corridor.

Fiona disappeared through the door to the left and Dean, who lead his family into the house, followed her into what had to be the sitting room. However, it was hard to tell due to the amount of stuff littered around the room. Newspaper stacks lay in one corner and dirty plates and wine glasses were left in various places, and on top of everything random objects lay scattered around. They had to wade a path through piles of junk to get to the sofa as Fiona took the armchair, which seemed to be the only used seat in the room as it was closest to the door and the easiest to get to. 

Dean had to stop himself from asking Fiona which episode of Hoarders she was on when Sam, Mary, and himself finally took their seats on the edge of the sofa. 

  


“You wanna know about Steven?” Said Fiona as she set her empty coffee mug on the floor to join the three others by her chair.

“Yes, what can you tell us about him?” Sam asked, learning forward to listen.

“Well, he... he was the happiest little boy...” Fiona smiled fondly at her memories before her face darkened slightly, “But it was just him and me you know? I was 20 when I had him, his dad ran off before he was born. And when Steven was around four he just wasn't developing, he still couldn't speak well, barely slept, and he wasn't the same as the kids in Kindergarten. The doctors told me loads of fancy words, said he wasn't like other children, that he'd need help. I took him back home of course, and we were fine... For a while. As he started to grow up he was harder to handle, I c-couldn't cope. And the doctors, they told me he could go to some place were they could handle him. That was b-built for children with disabilities...”

“Anhanger.” Said Dean softly and Fiona wiped her eyes.

“Y-yeah, that place. I-I guess you know right? What that place was really like?”

Sam nodded gravely, “We do.” 

“Huh.” Fiona scoffed bitterly at herself, “Well I didn't, not at the time. It wasn't until they shut it down... I might have known earlier, if I'd tried harder. But I d-didn't- I couldn't- visit him often.”

“Why not?” Interrupted Dean, barely hiding the anger in his voice. Sam nudged him discreetly as a warning.

“I just couldn't stand it... Seeing him in there. Knowing I'd sent him there.” Sniffed Fiona, tears now running down her cheeks, “So I'd send him letters, birthday cards, Christmas cards, anything I could. And... and...”

“And you didn't stop.” Sam finished for her, “You kept on sending them even after he died.”

Fiona looked down and placed her head in her hands. Her muffled cries made both Sam and Dean slightly uncomfortably at witnessing her grief. Mary on the other hand watched her closely with something akin to jealously. She wished that she could let go and cry for her abandoned children too, but she found she had no tears left to shed.

  


Eventually Fiona dragged her fingers under her eyes to wipe away her tears and sniffed loudly. 

“You're really here about the deaths in Tulsa aren't you, those four children?”She asked them, her eyes darting between each of the Winchesters before settling on Dean.

Dean looked back at her and furrowed his brow. As he stared into the haunted woman's eyes he realised that none of this was news to her.

“You know what's been happening don't you?” Said the hunter in a low voice, “You know it was Steven.”

The woman ducked away from his gaze, avoiding the question.“I-I-”

“Fiona, what did you do?” Asked Sam dangerously.

“I didn't k-know what w-would happen I-I swear! You won’t believe me... It-it was just a séance... I didn't think it would even work!” Blurted out the woman, her eyes going wide.

Each of the hunters felt the all too familiar sense of self-righteous annoyance rising within them. In this job coming saving people from a problem they themselves had caused was sadly common place.

“When did you do the ritual?” Questioned Dean, already knowing the answer.

“8 months ago.” She answered, confirming his own thoughts, “I only wanted to speak with him and it worked! But only for a few minutes before he disappeared. I thought he'd... I thought his spirit had moved on.”

“Oh it moved on alright.” Said Dean in disbelief at the woman's ignorance, “Moved on to Anhanger!”

“Dean, save it.” Sam tried to calm his brother before turning his attention onto Steven's mother, “Look Fiona, we think he was using your letters as an anchoring point to the hospital.”

“We destroyed the letters but his spirit is still stuck on earth.” Mary explained to Fiona, but the woman still looked confused.

“H-How do you know all this?”

“Long story, trust me.” Dean stood up suddenly and felt his ribs protest. He gritted his teeth against the small dose of pain and turned slowly towards Fiona. “Just tell us where Steven is buried.”

“What?” She said, looking even more taken aback.

“Tell us where he's buried and we can make sure no one else dies.”

“He means that in a none threatening way.” Sam reassured the woman, standing up too and putting a hand on his brothers shoulder to stop him getting even more worked up. 

“H-he's not. He's cremated.”

“Of course he is.” Murmured Dean, throwing up his hands in defeat. 

Sam on the other hand racked his brain. 

“Then there's got to be something else... Wait a second. Fiona, what did you use to summon Steven here?”

The woman looked at Sam for a few seconds like he was stupid, “Well a medium, she didn't come cheap-”

“I mean besides that.” Dismissed the younger hunter, “You needed something of his, right? What did you use?”

“Erm... His baby teeth.” Admitted Fiona.

“Good, you still have them?” Mary asked and all three Winchesters held their breaths as Fiona answered.

“Yeah, I do. I know where they are” She said, and relief flooded over the hunters. Fiona instantly got to her feet and began to make her way towards a blocked cabinet near the door.

“Surprised she does know, considering...” Dean muttered under his breath as he looked around at the crowded messy room.

  


Mary watched as the woman slowly moved aside the items that blocked the glass doors to the glass doored cabinet. 

Once Fiona opened the doors Mary could see the dusty silver inside. Her mind instantly shot back to Kansas, back to her own silver cabinet full of the pieces she'd inherited from her mother after she...

Mary stopped herself from thinking about her parents deaths and instead thought about her own, and also of the wooden cabinet in their house in Lawrence. Did that burn too? Or did the fire not reach downstairs? When she'd returned to her house more than thirty years later it looked intact and almost identical to the 1980s version she'd lived in whilst she was in heaven. 

They must have rebuilt it, she thought. But she still wondered what John had done with her mother's silver.

  


“Here it is.” Fiona's voice cut through her memories and brought her crashing back into the 21st century. In her hands the woman held a small silver circular box with a fairy perched on top. As the hunters walked closer they could read the engraving on the top that read 'tooth fairy'. 

Fiona didn't see the knowing smiles of Sam and Dean, who thought fondly of Garth and his supposed tangle with the real tooth fairy, as she pressed the side of the trinket box.

The lid popped open and Fiona pushed it back to reveal two baby teeth inside the velvet lined box. 

“Okay, now what?” She asked the three hunters, who looked at the woman in alarm. Fiona glared back at them in confusion and suddenly saw her own breath in front of her.

  


The strangers in her sitting room all reached around their backs in unison. 

  


Fiona looked on in horror as they each brought out their own guns and pointed them straight at her.

“P-please.” She begged for her life, already feeling the icy cold grip of death around her.

“Fiona.” Said the one she had heard the taller man call Dean.

  


His eyes looked right behind her. 

  


“Get out of the way.”

  



	9. Chapter 9

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#  ________________

  


  


The three Winchesters stood in Fiona Birch's cluttered sitting room aiming their guns at the figure standing behind her. Mary, who stood to the right of her sons, stretched her free hand out. Fiona took it in her own shaking hand and let the blonde haired woman pull her slowly away from danger. 

  


Once she'd walked over to stand with the people who claimed to be F.B.I agents, Fiona found herself face to face with her dead son. She couldn't help the gasp of fear that flew out of her mouth or the sudden death-like grip she exerted on Mary's hand.

“Steven.” Fiona breathed. The spirit's dark eyes moved slowly over the face of his mother and his mouth turned into a snarl.

“ _Left me._ ” The boy growled in his low unsteady voice before lurching forwards.

A scream escaped her as three guns were discharged at the same time, sending bullets straight into Steven. Fiona's hands flew up to her face to cover her eyes, making her drop the open silver trinket box onto the floor. She didn't hear the sound of it hitting the wood or see where the two lose baby teeth had scattered.

“Okay, we don't have much time.” Said Sam hurriedly after the shots rang out and placed a hand on Fiona's shoulder, “We need to burn those teeth.”

The deeply shaken woman looked up in bewilderment to see the other two hunters looking at her empty hands. Fiona stared back at them and stuttered out, “I-I dropped t-them.”

Dean, Mary, and Sam immediately dropped to their knees and began to search the floor. The older man muttered a string of curses as they pushed aside magazines, dolls, bottles, and various other stuff to try and find the teeth.

“Like two needles in a pile of needles...” Dean said in an undertone as Sam bent down to help them search.

Fiona stood frozen watching them rake through all of the trash she'd let pile up over the years and couldn't help but feel a wave of shame crashing over her. She knew she should help but she would only be a hindrance. Instead, the woman walked over to her fireplace and picked up the small dusty picture frame left discarded amongst the clutter on her mantelpiece.

She felt the eyes of Mary on her as she cleaned the glass of dust. 

Ignoring the scrutiny she felt from the other woman, Fiona stared at the photograph of her son as a toddler. He couldn't have been more than three years old at the time it was taken as he played with his toys on the once tidy rug beneath him. Fiona let her finger trace his small face lovingly before moving to set the frame back down. 

  


As she placed it onto the mantel she caught a reflection in the glass. 

  


It was Steven. Looming over her once again.

  


“Fiona!” Yelled Mary in warning from across the room, but it was too late. Steven grabbed hold of her shoulders and sent her crashing forward. All three of the Winchesters watched as Fiona's head hit the marble mantle with a sickening crack.

The woman's body slumped and Steven let go of her. Fiona fell lifeless to the floor as Dean leapt up with his gun. Every bone in his chest seemed to sing in agony but the pain didn't touch Dean, anger had taken it's place. He raised his trusted ivory gripped pistol to send four more rapid fire iron bullets into Steven's ghost, making him disappear on the first shot. He also broke a vase, another photo frame, and created two bullet holes in the wall behind the spirit.

Mary wanted to run over to Fiona, check and see if she was still alive against all the odds, but she looked away from the woman's body and swallowed hard. The hunter had to push away the nausea and mixed emotions towards Fiona and her sad life. She empathised with her and knew all too well the trauma of losing a child. Even though the woman's situation was different to her own, Mary understood why Fiona summoned Steven's spirit. She just wished that that there could have been a happier ending to this sad tale.

All they could do now was find and destroy the baby teeth, it was the only way to find peace for both Fiona Birch and her child. 

She glanced over to check on her own sons and realised that Dean was still on his feet. The man lowered his gun and clutched his chest as the pain caught up with him. He staggered a little as the room tilted violently before his eyes.

“Dean? DEAN!” Yelled Sam from below him, clearing his vision a little, “Hey- just stay with us, I've found one.”

The hunter looked down to see his brother holding up one of the baby teeth whilst his mother dived back down and raked through the area next to him, looking for the other.

Sam stood up with the tooth in one hand and his gun in the other. He too seemed to deliberately avoid looking at Fiona's body, instead he grabbed an empty bowl that sat amongst other miscellaneous items that were piled high on the coffee table. He dropped the small tooth into it and looked at his brother.

“We got a blow torch on hand?” He asked as though it was the most normal sentence in the world. 

“No.” Answered Dean like it _was_ the most normal sentence in the world. The hunter pried his free hand away from his aching chest and reached into his pocket to pull out a lighter. “Fiona must have some hairspray hanging around though.”

The brothers looked at each other and grinned, despite everything their gallows humour always shone through in these harrowing situations. 

As they began to look around their mother's hand shot upwards, drawing their attention. The brothers glared down in surprise at the small tooth she held between her thumb and index finger.

“Got it.” She said matter-of-factly and scrambled to her feet. Sam held out the dirty bowl to her and she dropped the tooth into it to join the other. The lingering smiles soon left the men's faces as they studied Mary's drawn face. 

Even though he found himself feeling uneasy at the comparison, Sam couldn't help but be reminded of his father and how his presence always made the brothers tense up and jump into soldier mode.

It was a reflex he always hated but one that still lingered even after a long decade without John. He didn't think he'd ever be rid of it, and he had never imagined his mother would provoke the same response.

Dean on the other hand, didn't seem phased. Instead he easily launched into assigning positions, which was something that their father would get him to do on a hunt as a test of how well the then hunter-in-training had assessed the situation.

“Okay, Mom keep me and Sam covered- and tell me if you see any spray cans.” Dean ordered as he moved to quickly search the room.

Mary instantly held up her gun and both she and Sam began to slowly spin on the spot to check each corner for the spirit, all the while keeping an eye on Dean who was anxiously tearing through the room looking for a can of hairspray or deodorant. They needed anything that held aerosol spray that he could light up to create a makeshift blow torch as they had no time to build a small fire to burn the teeth.

  


The hunters began to feel on edge as the urgency of finishing this job weighed even more heavy on them all. Sam clutched onto the bowl, hoping to keep it from being unexpectedly snatched out of his hands, whilst Mary continued to scan the room for the ghost that could reappear at any moment. 

They knew it was only a matter of time until Steven materialised again. Dean dealt with the anticipation by tearing the place apart looking for a spray can, but as he bent forward a little too fast to push aside some boxes he let out a hiss of pain that made Sam forget about their positions. 

“Dean, let me look instead.” The younger man said as he walked towards his brother, wanting to trade jobs. He only realised his mistake when the temperature dropped drastically and a ice cold hand dug into the flesh of his bicep.

“GET DOWN!” Yelled Mary in alarm. 

Sam only had a second to quickly lay a hand over the top of the bowl and duck before his mother fired another iron round into Steven's ghost.

“Sammy!” Dean was already at his side, one hand on the shoulder of the arm that Steven had grabbed.

“I'm okay, really.” He reassured him before he spotted the silver can glinting in Dean's other hand.

“You found one?” He looked up at his brother in awe.

“Only the best firmest hold hairspray Sam.” Dean assured him and helped him up, “Come on, put the bowl down and lets light this up.”

Sam shook his hair out of his face and set the bowl containing the teeth down on the coffee table after Mary promptly knocked off half of the miscellaneous items that were piled on away with a sweep of her arm. 

  


The three of them stood around the bowl for a moment, looking at the two baby teeth that belonged to a ghost that had had such a tragic life, and now such a bitter end. 

  


Dean cleared his throat, hoping to also clear away the awful memories of abuse at Anhanger House that Steven's possession had placed in his head. As he drew his thumb down the spark wheel of the lighter to produce a flame and readied the hairspray, he couldn't help but wish there was a less violet way to expel Steven's spirit.

For a moment Sam considered asking Dean if he wanted him to do this instead ,but at the sight of Dean's hardening face he didn't. 

His brother finally pressed down the lid of the hairspray into the lighter, creating a streak of airborne fire which Dean aimed directly into the bowl.

The fire from the home-made flamethrower bathed the room in a harsh orange glow which made dark shadows appear on each one of the Winchesters faces, giving their features the look of three stoic skulls. 

As they stared down and listened to he constant whoosh of air that came from the gas and small lighter flame combining, a different noise seemed to fill the room. One that sounded like shrill screaming.

Sam looked over his shoulder to see Steven's spirit being eaten up by a gust of fire almost identical to the one Dean's flamethrower made. 

He watched on morbidly as the boy screamed and fought against the flames, feeling like the least he could do was watch Steven's final moments.

  


With an echoing yell from the ghost, the fire fully consumed his figure before finally both Steven and the vicious flames disappeared before the hunter's eyes. As he vanished so too the last fading note of his cry before it was silenced abruptly and the world righted it's self again. 

  


Sam let out the breath he didn't know he was holding and turned towards his family in relief. He expected to see similar unburdened faces looking back at him but he found no such thing.

His mother stood staring at the space where Steven had burnt up, her mouth open in her own small silent scream. Sam couldn't help but quickly look away as though he was intruding on some terrible dream and instead looked towards his brother. 

Dean was glaring down at the now completely blackened and charred bowl, the lighter and hairspray still hovering in his hand. Whereas Sam had found himself looking away from Mary's frozen pain as though it was separate from him, his first instinct when he saw Dean's stricken face was to grab his brother's wrist to draw his attention. 

Slowly Dean's glassy green eyes met Sam's concerned hazel and the younger man managed to get a response out of his brother.

“We do it?” Asked Dean, sounding younger than he had done in years.

Sam smiled sadly and let out a small laugh that could have been a sob, “Yeah. We did it.”

He moved his grip on Dean's wrist to take the hairspray and lighter out of his brother's hands, but as he looked down he gasped and quickly let go.

Dean's left thumb, bottom half of his index finger were a charred mess of red and black. It took Sam a second to realise that he'd been burnt from the flamethrower, and by the numb look on Dean's face he hadn't realised either.

“God, Dean you've burnt your hand!” Cried Sam, trying to snap some sense into him as he pulled him out of the room towards the kitchen. “Come on, we need water!” 

Fiona's kitchen was in pretty much the same state as the rest of her house. Sam had to wrestle through years of clutter to get to the sink, dragging his brother behind him. Once he got there he turned the cold water on and pulled Dean's burnt hand under the steady flow. 

After a few seconds the dazed look began to fade from Dean's face and he chuckled uneasily, “Don't think I'm gunna get outta this hunt in one piece.”

“Have you ever?” The younger man joked back and let go of Dean's arm now that he seemed more lucid. Though Sam's face fell a little as he reassured his brother, “The hunt's over Dean. Did you not see Steven...”

Dean shook his head and titled his hand so that the water could fall on his other singed fingers. “I was too busy making sure those teeth went up in flames.”

“Yeah... and nearly the rest of you too.” Sam was unconvinced, he couldn't help but feel as though that wasn't the whole truth. Dean should have at least heard Steven as he screamed.

They stood in silence for a few moments listening to the calming flow of water before Dean suddenly pulled his hand out from underneath the faucet and glared at Sam in a panic.

“Mom? Where is she?” He asked frantically.

For a second Sam stared back before he stupidly looked behind them, “I must have left her in...”

Before he could finish his sentence both men made for the door. They quickly made their way back to the living room and stopped dead when they found it empty.

  


“Mom?” Dean called out brokenly and they both jumped when they heard a familiar voice behind them.

“Down here.”

They turned around and looked down to see Mary crouching down next to the fireplace holding a discarded t-shirt to Fiona's bleeding head.

“Her pulse is weak but she's still alive.” Said their mother miraculously as both Sam and Dean began to feel guilty about briefly leaving Mary behind and assuming Fiona was already gone.

“I'll-I'll call 911.” Stuttered Sam, fumbling to get his phone out of his pocket.

Dean on the other hand sunk down to the floor next to his mother and stared down at the gravely injured woman. 

  


“I'm sorry.” He whispered before he could help it. Even as Mary gave him a sympathetic look whilst Sam spoke to the ambulance operators on the phone, Dean still didn't really know who he was saying sorry to.

  



	10. Chapter 10

*

#  ________________

  


  


It was 12:00 pm when the doctors finally stabilised Fiona. Mary had sat anxiously in the hospital waiting room with her hands clenched together for most of the 4 hours since she had arrived. She'd occupied the alongside other distraught strangers, all of who probably assumed she was also worried about a loved one in a life-threatening state. 

  


They were wrong of course. She barely knew the woman she had arrived with. But when the ambulance appeared at Fiona's house and the paramedics asked who would be riding with her, she found herself answering. Mary's son's stared at her as she left alongside the stretcher, calling after her that they'd follow in the car. 

And follow her they did. Sam and Dean arrived at the hospital not long after Mary had been banished to the waiting room. Her eldest didn't speak much, instead his eyes fluttered around the room like the hospital was a hostile territory. Maybe it was to him, after all it wasn't long since they'd dragged Dean to the Urgent Care in Tulsa and he had the look of someone who didn't want to be captured again.

In the end though, Dean was captured on Sam's orders. As soon as a nurse arrived to give them news on Fiona's condition, Sam couldn't help but ask her to take a look at Dean's left hand. Mary hadn't even seen it herself until Dean reluctantly lifted it up to show the charred and blistered skin. She gasped and almost reached out to take his injured hand in her own like she had done when he was a child to sooth the hurt, but she stopped awkwardly when she realised that wasn't her place any more. 

  


That was the whole problem, she had no place any more.

  


The nurse took one look at Dean's burn and decided he needed to be admitted himself. Despite the hunter's best protests he was ushered away, with Sam following behind them. However, as the younger man reached the door he glanced back at Mary in apology, obviously torn between wanting to stay.

Mary just gave him a weak smile and mouthed _'go'_ , knowing he needed to be with his brother.

 

  


She'd lost track of how long they'd been now. Mary had sat in the same uncomfortable plastic chair with her hands together in a prayer-like pose for what could have been hours, could have been minutes. 

She wasn't praying despite her appearance. Even if she was, even if there was someone out there who could hear her, she wouldn't know where to begin. What would she pray for? To return to heaven? For Fiona's recovery? Or maybe for the safety of her boys?

Here she was on earth again, reunited with her now adult sons, but she'd never felt so alone. And even worse, she felt the weight of Sam and Dean's expectations that she could slip back into motherhood and make up for lost time. 

Mary just couldn't do it. It was too hard. She knew the time was coming that she would have to tell them again that she had to leave. Dean's flinch and refusal at her hug goodbye when she left them in the bunker was still fresh in her mind and still hurt just as much. But this hunt, just like the last one they'd been on together, had just solidified the fact that the three of them were severely out of sync. And they were putting themselves and others in danger because of Sam and Dean's refusal to admit that all three of them were struggling.

On their previous hunt in Minnesota, Mary had been the one to suffer. This time Dean had paid the price.

She'd also seen the aftermath of the torture Sam had gone through by the hand of that insane British woman and the rest of her cronies. Mary thought back to the horrible sight and how another British Men of Letter's had stepped in to apologise for the so-called 'Lady' Bevell, claiming she'd gone rogue. Obviously they didn't buy it, but the man's parting words had been playing on her mind lately.

  


_What have you got to lose? Except your worse nightmares._

  


Mary scoffed. Nightmares she could deal with, it was everything else that she couldn't.

  


Not long after the doctor informed her of Fiona's stable condition, Sam arrived back in the waiting room without his brother. Mary had been staring into space wondering whether she should go check on the resting woman or just leave, when Sam's large form appeared in front of her.

“Hi Mom, any news?” He asked as he took a seat next to her. Mary glanced around the room and only now realised the room was empty but for her and Sam. She wondered how long it had been that way before she finally answered her son's question.

“Y-Yes, they've stabilised her.” She thought about what the doctor had told her, that Fiona had a good chance of recovery from the head injury. Mary was sure they'd said more but she had blanked it out, just glad the woman had survived. Her thoughts soon turned to her other son, who hadn't followed Sam into the waiting room.

“Where's Dean?” She asked, starting to feel concerned.

“Heh, moping on a hospital bed.” Chuckled Sam. “They've wrapped up his hand and checked his ribs. I said I'd be right back, just wanted to...”

“See how I was doing?” 

“Yeah.” Sam's smile faltered a little as he turned to fully look at Mary, “How are you Mom?”

The older hunter felt a little taken aback and tried to reassure her son, “I'm, I'm okay really.”

“Are you sure? Because I know it's been a hard night and a couple of times I thought- I don't know, you weren't coping?”

As Sam scanned her features she felt like he was thinking back to finding Dean lifeless and injured in Anhanger House, and how she froze up in the doorway, unable to move. And just hours ago, at Fiona's house, how the sight of Steven's ghost going up in flames had locked her body up in fear. She knew this strange paralysis she fell into was something she had to get over, but she didn't want to burden it on her sons. Or put them in danger because of it.

“Sam, I don't want you to worry about me.” She said carefully, trying to put his mind at ease. However, her youngest wasn't easily pacified.

“Well I do.” Said Sam simply, “I want you to know we're here, whenever you need us.”

Mary looked at her son and sighed, “Thank you.”

They both looked around the empty room and watched a nurse rush by the window like a streak of lightning.

Eventually Sam cleared his throat. “So, are you going to stay here or...”

He let the question hang in the air before Mary finally answered honestly.

“I don't know.” She said, closing her eyes for a moment, “I think I just wanted to make sure Fiona pulled through, maybe it's enough knowing that she'll recover.”

“Yeah, what she's been through...” Noted Sam, “Losing her son...”

A lump formed in Mary's throat at that reminder. 

“And we took him away again.” The hunter pointed out hopelessly.

“Mom we had to-”

“I know, I know. But her house Sam, her face when she saw him then the way she looked at that photograph...” Mary hung her head, remembering how happy Fiona looked as she gazed at her once carefree child. She couldn't help but be reminded of the loose tattered photographs of their depleted family in John's journal, “She even kept his baby teeth...”

  


They both feel silent, flashes of their quick but harrowing experience in Fiona's house with the ghost of her son running through both of their heads. Though Sam felt sympathy towards Steven and the woman, he couldn't help but acknowledge the small twisted victory he'd felt in ridding the earth of Steven's vengeful spirit who'd possessed and almost killed Dean, not to mention the kids he'd killed back in Tulsa. Fiona's decision to speak with the dead had resulted in four other parents losing their children. 

It was hard to feel remorse for preventing more deaths when he considered all this, but he understood how Mary saw the case with a mother's eye. He thought back to the two teeth that Fiona kept and turned to Mary.

“Did you keep any of Dean's baby teeth.” He inquired tentatively, trying to both cheer his mother up and re-start the conversation. 

“Huh?” She looked surprised at the question, “Oh, he hadn't lost any before I...”

Her face fell and Sam felt stupid for bringing it up. He was just insatiably curious about his family's life before the fire, he always had been. Talking about Mary had always been a potentially explosive subject between the then three surviving Winchesters, especially with their father. Now that she'd returned he found he had so many questions for her, but when Mary opened her mouth to speak again Sam was surprised to find she had one for him.

“Did your Dad keep any?” Asked Mary, almost as shyly as Sam had.

“Huh no. Me and Dean used to tie our loose teeth to string and slam the door, but one time Dad was sleeping and we woke him up.” Sam laughed at the memory, remembering how that put an end to their experiments on how to pull teeth. He caught himself thinking about what he did with his own baby teeth after they came out before picturing himself stuffing one under a motel pillow excitedly. 

“I used to put mine under my pillow for the tooth fairy, but I'm pretty sure it was Dean who slipped a quarter underneath it, not some girl with wings.” He smiled nostalgically to himself.

“He did stuff like that for you?” Mary lent closer to him, her face full of a strange mix of sadness and pride.

“Yeah lots of stuff... You- died- before I... I mean a mother to me was always a concept.” He stuttered out awkwardly, not looking Mary in the eye for fear of upsetting her, “I remember they told me at school that a Mom was someone who loved you and took care of you, helped you when you were scared or sad, made you meals and tucked you in at night. At the time I thought the only person I knew who did all of that for me was Dean, I got so confused because the other kids said my brother couldn't be a Mom.”

He let out a breath and looked over to his mother after his small confession. Mary was looking back at him with tears threatening to fall down her cheeks.

“But he was.” She said softly as she dragged her fingers across her eyes to rid them of tears.

“Yeah. Huh. I mean, Dad really drilled it into his head that I was his responsibility but Dean didn't have to be told. He's always taken care of me.”

“So, who took care of him?” Asked Mary blankly.

“That's the big question isn't it?... And you're the answer Mom.” Sam turned to her and held her hands, he needed her to really understand where Dean and Sam's different feelings towards their mother came from, “He still remembers you like you were when he was four years old. I think you're the reason Dean knew what to do, knew how to look after me. So you coming back.... different...”

“-Really shattered his illusions.”

“Hmm.” Sam hummed in agreement before he squeezed Mary's hands to reassure her, “Look Mom, we can't force you to stay with us if you think it's better for you out there...”

She couldn't help but let out a small sob at Sam's words. Dean had really raised the boy right in her absence but his kindness and understanding was still underpinned by a fear of rejection from her. Despite everything, Mary could still sense it. She could see the slight vulnerable shake in his eye that said _don't leave us now._

“I'm sorry Sam.” Mary all but mouthed. Sam let her hands slip from his as she stood up and raked a hand through her hair in away that was so reminiscent of himself. 

Afterwards she let her hands fall hopelessly to her sides again, “All of this... These hunts we're ending up on, I can't do it. Not with you and Dean. I just hurts too much.”

Her son looked down for a moment before he stood up too and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“I understand.” He said with a strained smile and pulled her into a hug. Mary held on tightly, not wanting to let go, but eventually they broke apart and smiled at each other.

Mary took a deep breath and once again wiped her eyes, “So. You going to take me to him?”

Sam nodded and guided Mary out of the waiting room and out into the noisy corridor. This hospital was ten times busier than the all but abandoned medical center they'd taken Dean to in the early hours of the morning. Stretchers pushed past them along with patients in wheelchairs, a doctor with his head in a clipboard nearly walked into them on their way to Dean.

  


  


* * * * * * * * 

  


  


Eventually they ended up at a smaller separate ward away from intensive care, one which featured a row of beds all separated by curtains. Sam stopped at the desk just as they entered the room and turned to face Mary.

“I'm just, I'm going to go and grab something to eat.” He said, gesturing towards the door. 

Mary began to get the idea that Sam wanted her to talk to Dean alone and gave her son a knowing look, “I get it. So which one is he in?” 

Sam instantly grabbed the attention of the nurse at the desk, who looked him up and down as he spoke, “Oh hey, could you show my Mom to my brother's bed? His names Dean Moon.”

Mary suppressed a laugh. First Townsend now Moon, they were going to get through the entire line up of The Who within the day the way things were going. Sam gave her an apologetic smile before he left as the nurse guided Mary over to the second bed from the end of the long row. 

  


After she walked past the dividing curtain her eldest son came into view. He was sat up on the bed looking pissed beyond belief as he stared at his heavily bandaged left hand.

“They used enough gauze on that?” Asked Mary, making Dean's eyes dart over to her in alarm. Once he saw it was her his face softened a little, but he still remained guarded.

“No I think they're planning on making it into a boxing glove.” He joked bitterly as he turned his hand over to show the extent they'd gone to to wrap up his hand.

Mary couldn't help but laugh, “Well it would come in handy.”

“Sammy not with you?” Dean tried to keep his voice casual but his tense body language told a different story.

“He's gone to get some food.”

Mary watched as Dean shifted in his seat. His unease at being in another hospital was obviously getting to him. 

“Figures.” The man huffed in annoyance, “He left me here to go check on you, I could have come with. I'm not made of glass.”

“He knows that.” Placated Mary, but Dean turned his narrowed eyes onto her.

“Do you?” He asked, throwing her for a loop. Dean sighed loudly before looking away from Mary and up towards the stained ceiling tiles above him.

“I know what this is.” He said quietly as he closed his eyes, “Mom, if you want to go just say it.”

  


Mary was surprised how quickly Dean had read the situation, but soon found herself wondering if her son had realised that she was about to say goodbye or he was convinced that Mary would always leave him.

“I didn't say I wanted to...” She finally admitted.

Dean opened his eyes to stare at his mother. Mary simply looked back into her hurt son's face, wondering how she could mask her own pain.

“You don't have to.” Said Dean eventually, “You've got that look.” 

“Dean please.” She dragged a chair from his bedside and sat down in it, trying to get on his eye level, “I'm trying so hard here and I'm getting nowhere. I came on this hunt for _you_ , and look what happened.”

The man just looked at her in frustration, “Mom, how is this your fault?”

“Don't you see? All of this is my fault!” Cried Mary, at a loss of how she could explain the consuming guilt she felt. Tears pricked her eyes as she looked at her grown-up son, “I'm the reason you're in this life and I can't help but feel responsible for everything you've been through. I'm your mother, Dean. I never wanted any of this for you and Sam. How many more times do I have to see you in a hospital bed?”

Dean scoffed, “Pfft, these aren't the only two times I've been in a hospital bed.”

Mary threw up her hands and laughed humorlessly, “Exactly! And why's that?”

The other hunter looked at her with a strange expression that Mary couldn't read. Thankfully she saw no hatred there, but there was something else, something buried with sympathy...

“Look I know I've got a huge guilt complex too so I'm not one to talk, but Mom you've got to stop this.”

“I know that but...” She looked down at her feet, not wanting to see the disappointment on Dean's face. “I can't be the person you or Sam want me to be. I'm not the mother you had when you were four years old Dean, I'm sorry but I'm not.”

“So you're leaving us again?” He said nonchalantly like it didn't even come as a surprise. The words sounded resigned and bitter.

“Don't say it like that please.” 

“How do you want me to say it?” Bit back Dean, “I'm guessing you got all the compassion and understanding from your heart to heart with Sam. Did he wave you on your way?”

“Dean...” She sighed in exhaustion. They were going round and round in circles, neither one fully seeing the others point of view.

“What do you want from me?” She asked.

“I don't even know any more Mom.” Answered Dean in an equally tired voice, the fight leaving him. He covered his face with his right hand and muttered, “If it's going to make you happy, maybe you _should_ go.”

“That's not what it's about.” Protested Mary. Leaving the bunker had never been about gaining happiness, all she'd wanted to gain was what little control she could. 

“I'm still adjusting.” She reminded her son, who in turn laughed softly.

“Aren't we all?”

Mary could have chose to take offence at Dean's sarcastic tone, but instead she smiled and reached for Dean's uninjured hand. 

As she took his heavy hand in hers she breathed a sigh of relief that he let her do it. The hunter didn't think she could have bared it if Dean pulled away from her like he had done when she'd told him of her decision to leave the bunker.

“I hate leaving you like this...” She squeezed and shook his hand dejectedly, trying to get him to look at her. But Dean just continued to stare pointedly at the curtain that separated him from the other patients.

“It's fine Mom.” He said in a low worn-out voice, “Once Sam comes back we'll get out of here.”

  


She knew that _'we'_ didn't include her and it surprised her that it hurt to hear it even though she was the one who'd created this self-imposed exile. But Dean had took her words the wrong way and assumed she was talking about hating leaving him in the hospital. It wasn't just that. It was the way they were about to part again that she hated. 

“That's not what I meant.” Explained Mary, “We can't keep having these fights. I don't want to.”

His mother's words echoed Dean's own thoughts exactly. He failed to see how all this was what he needed, and although he was happy beyond belief that his mother had been brought back to life, he couldn't help but feel that Amara's last act had been misguided. Reuniting with her own family had been something the all powerful being had needed but in trying to thank Dean for the role he'd played, The Darkness had so far caused more harm than good. Perhaps it had been better to leave the past were it belonged. In the past.

He'd not been expecting a fairy tale, nothing in his life had ever turned out that way. And Dean did truly love his mother... But this version of her, this reality of her clashed so hard with his childlike faded memories of protection and care that had comforted him in his darkest moments. 

  


He found that he couldn't let go of that idea of Mary. It was like giving up a deep-seated belief, or even giving up faith. 

  


Yet the head-butting and frustration was staring to eat away at both of them.

“I don't either but... I just can't pretend to agree with you.” Dean told his mother, “I still think we're all better together than apart.”

Mary held on tightly to his hand and looked at him with deep emotion. A stray tear finally made it down her face and she whispered, “We will be together Dean, I promise. Real soon.”

Dean was reminded of all the empty promises he'd heard before, ones that came from his fathers mouth. He wanted to question how soon, if ever? He wanted to rage and yell at her, scream about how unfair this all was, about the grief that had dogged him his whole life, how John had chosen to sporadically abandon them and now their mother was doing the same, and how he was plagued by memories that weren't even his own, of some poor abused child who'd possessed him and starved him of breath.

  


He realised he hadn't even asked about Steven's mother. Was she alive or dead? The question lingered on Dean's tongue but he didn't speak. The lingering feelings of hatred towards her that Steven had felt polluted him, Fiona had chosen to leave her son in Anhanger House and for that the troubled disabled boy had never forgiven her. His own feelings towards his own mother got mixed in with the banished ghosts anger too, it was getting even harder to separate the two.

  


After a few moments, Dean slowly pulled his uninjured hand away from Mary's and held it to his bruised chest.

His mother accepted the move and although more tears feel down her face she nodded at her son, understanding that this was her time to go.

She got to her feet a little too quickly and felt the odd sensation of gravity trying to catch up to her. For a moment she considered staying to say goodbye to Sam, but she felt like she already had.

Dean looked up at her from the hospital bed he lay on, his mouth clasped closed as if trying to keep in any last attempts at convincing her to stay. 

Mary took one last look at his face, searching in it to find the four year old she'd left behind- but he was getting harder and harder to see. A man sat in his place, full of resentment and disappointment.

  


Her lip wobbled slightly as a cry nearly escaped her, but she held it in and closed her eyes. She had to fix this life she'd inadvertently given her children and she had to do it alone.

  


  


The blonde haired woman walked away with her head angled low as her son watched on in pain, feeling like his cracked ribs were finally breaking.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rather depressing end, taking us back into canon territory. Thank you SO much for reading this story dear reader, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
